Writing Out Hunger

Writing Out Hunger

The friend I can only have
safely
with a teapot between us on a clear afternoon
or with parented cookies appearing
when the porch swing stops squeaking
and giggling becomes whispers
warm breath on necks dancing mouthwards
little dragons of steam
pas de deux with lips tasteing of cherries

Never mind that you are ... grey
one flash of wit
and I have visions of skin
cufflinks haunt me,shirts, suits
the hair behind your ear curling
conversational foreplay
sparking Stromboli, Venusian Vesuvius

Your Palace in Portugal
just us dusking it up as it chills
drinking views and night swells
a Merlot with a good terroire
red and round ,sweet and sour

Oh the air we'd breathe
and I'd kiss your beautiful hands