alphabetical order

I want to read you in alphabetical order.
Meticulous from A to Z, look you up
sequentially and deeply read you
through and through, from literal
to subtext, you with all your hints
and innuendos - nothing would be skimmed
or missed.

Every part of you, perused, pondered in
and deeply kissed. Poked and probed,
I should suspect - though some parts
maybe more than most.

And some of you's been doubly,
triply named - quadruply, even,
up to sextuply and more! One hopes

that you won't mind, but all such names
shall count as separate parts.
Each to be treated unredundantly,

to be read through again
with interest fresh as first time through,
a chance to skip around through you
and make innumerable starts,

then to resume sequentially
from where we left off breathlessly,
in perfect order to pursue.
And once we're done, begin anew?

We'd not be finished for some time,
if you approve this plan of mine.

I wouldn't take you in one go,
but rather set some time aside
to take you up, luxuriate
in stretches as the hours go by,

or sometimes snatch in fits
and starts what times we'd steal,
snuck guiltily from times we'd set
for other things we had to do,

now spent in we,
perused by us,
in every part.

At least, such is what I'd assume.
You'd read me as I'm reading you,
not lie back learning what it's like

to be a book read through,
stripped bare by candlelight.