mosquitos sucking,
endlessly buzzing.
sweat pouring off my face,
wetting your white tank-top
in the stifling, secluded woods.


on an isolated, lone concrete
assbone-hard bench
directly on the
beaten path.


but we´re alone now.
just us,
with an entire forest of mosquitos
at our service,
and our shorts & undies
at our feet.


you´re on me like a Chinese acrobat.
how can your legs handle that angle?
my ass is screaming from this bench,
but I barely notice.
your shins, white and speckled
with red bite-bumps,
must be screaming even louder.
but we don´t hear those screams,
just the soft steamy sounds of the
bench-sexers in the woods.


your chin rests on my head
for a minute, until you
throw your head back
and zip your eyelids closed.


I do believe I know how you feel.


we walk out of the sweaty woods,
my hands alternating
between being on your ass
and scratching the hell
out of these red bumps.


Ah, but it was worth it, no?

09/08/2009

Author's Note: 9/6/09

Posted on 09/08/2009
Copyright © 2024 Eric Hinkle