this game
04/22/2006 03:56 a.m.
we always play this game:
i look at you
in my peripheral vision
and then trail
my finger tips
over the coarse weave of your
denim
and you look at me
and speak with your eyes

you laugh a little
and suddenly,
after another drink or two,
you are in love with me
again.

my hand
tangled in your hair
your hand
aligning with my spine

and we're kissing.
again.

i'm pushed against the car seat
and neither of us can refuse
even though logic may suggest we do so

but you know what?
i don't care about logic.
and when you're drinking, neither do you.
so our lips reacquaint themselves and
we play the same game
again.