Wednesday, October 11, 2006


The Erotic Explorer.

Sometimes he’ll lie back,
face resting, just looking up
as if the stars were out
ruddy and sharp
in our darkened room,
and I’ll have no idea
what he might be thinking,
I could only imagine,
and do imagine
that it might be about future days,
storms, adventures,
simple small triumphs
and other flowers of pleasure
featuring me
embarrassing the veins of his cheeks,
or of me
against his quaint buttocks
smooth like a velvet peach,
the stone removed but ruffled
around a wine dark pith
entering a gentle undulation
our bodies become twinned,
my imaginary paths
no matter how carnal,
fail to grasp
the scent of his alcohol,
his specific volume,
evades his essence,
though roughly described
as ‘my lover’
the label disclaims :~
‘do not drink too deeply
of your lover, as we
cannot be held responsible
for acts of use or consequences
for which this product
was not made.’

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