(12/11/60 / Danbury, CT USA)

Evidence Of Desire

Horizontal, merging into one-thousand thread count,
Egyptian, cotton-white to emancipate
dim light, yawn-sigh, orchestrations
of magic finger tip-toes round about
your hip knows how to lure me into
teasing corners begging me
“don’t stop”!

Premature dawn draws me warm in you and
evidence of desire becomes
a whispered lady song – ooh lah lah
“don’t stop”!

We had not slept long through those steamy nights IF
we slept at all, it was only
trance-like, twilight bobbing for more breathlessness.
But hours are the right way to be suspended
in articulate
tongue!

I know she’s true. Brain curves round - her
body in view behind nearly closed eyes and mountains
of hunger -
I massagé her wet bed. Inebriated on
sensing and sipping.
Nothing
else
matters
much like: crickets playing, migrations squawking overhead just at climax
or being found so deliciously lost squealing the lady song –
“ooh lah lah, don’t stop”!

After mint-lip tea, I have forgotten how to walk sure-footed,
naked, down the hall to the bathroom –
and we shall laugh at this many times before it’s over.

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