The lanky man stands in the doorway --
a cigarette hanging loosely and deliberately
from his pouty lips.
I call his name from behind,
longing for him to be too close to me.
His cigarette flies out to the sidewalk
and I can feel my stomach clench,
knowing he is turning toward me.
Closing in on me, his right hand grabs my arm --
gently; his left arm pulls me forward,
his whole hand spread out on the small of my back.
Our lips touch -- mine moistening his --
as we try in a futile attempt to get even closer.
My hands become alive -- finding his back.
I cup his head in my palm, my fingers
deeply sunken into his thick hair.
I pull and the passion becomes more intense --
everything is wet and beautiful.

We release and he kisses me softly on the cheek.
He drags his hand across my chest as he passes
me and reclines on the sofa -- seductively.
I find a home on the facing chair, content to watch
the angel sleep. Soon, I too am asleep.

        it is well
        it is well with my soul.

For hours we sleep, finding ourselves eventually
huddled together on the sofa or floor,
locked in a tangle of arms and legs.
We'll grow old, cherishing these afternoons.
The Lord has delivered.

10/29/2001

Posted on 02/20/2009
Copyright © 2024 Brian Fuchs