Playing Though
Two nights prior I resisted.
The following night though . . .
I took what I wanted.
I gambled on your bid.
You all chic,
Your hair up, handbag held to shield the rain. As. . .
You prance provocatively
White polk-a-dots on brown
Ruffles, lapping teasingly at your silhouette.
Foreshadowing?
You court my gaze to grasp (with later my kiss
Lingering in your garden) and.
I’ll admit.
I passed calf and thigh to hills and mountains high.
With apprehension. We drive on winding our way.
Down a path we both now will satisfy.
As the first DJ begins to spin a mix
Of melodies embracing, soft wet lips,
Locked like the grasp of my arm around your waist.
Brief interruptions.
Red roadsides, confessions, revelations.
Suggesting . . .
The early morning jockey rides a stream
Of smooth piano chords. Playing your body as an instrument.
Cautious curiosity turns lust that been lost
To an intoxicating reality.
Forested torso rubs electric fuzz
Over your own graceful landscape.
Your bosom blossoming with your backs gentle arch.
Hands; Hair; Hips; His/Hers entwined.
The smell of passion, the taste of salt.
As waves crash to shore, as I, we
Hold each other tightly through this tidal surge.
Others fog windows.
We blanketed this mountain with our wanton haze.
It’s getting early. Or is it late?
Breakfast before bed?
Lets still savor a nibble every once in a while.
I watch them change brown to green and the rain
Is still falling on the leaves.
Someone crying for what has been
And what cannot/will not be.
