i held in the smoke a little more than normal,
it had been a rough night, and he was looking at me.
he kept touching my hair, finding reasons for compliments.
the woods kept talking to us, private conversations
between the limbs and the leaves, and i was speechless.
he wore his faded jacket and stuck his hands in his pockets
and i kept losing my footing on the slippery moss,
black night in front and behind, i closed my eyes
and it made no difference.
i stood, shifting my weight from one foot
to the next, and in the reflection from the ember joint
i could tell that he was smiling.
to make him smile is orgasmic,
like rippling tides of pheremonal surges through my veins.
drug-induced euphoria rids you of inhibition,
and i would have jumped his bones
if he hadn't looked so innocent
in his faded orange jacket,
eyeing me through his two blue worlds.

03/18/2005

Posted on 03/18/2005
Copyright © 2024 Lauren Singer