every monday morning--i am used to it now--i
wake up with the thought: i must sleep with you
because i will see you only in an hour
because you were my fisrt love, my first kiss,
though you didn't look like this, like you
do now, i think how it would be to lie with you
to untwist my body from the warmth of you,
how would it be to take my hand along the scrag,
the red gold scrub of your cheek and chin
and then, through the thickness of blong hair,
long and tied with a ponytail
to smell the place between you legs and firmly place
my hands against the little belly
run my hands over infinite ass
at last
in lust is all forgotten and forgiven
in these fantasies there are so many unspeakable
body bending things that we do
but they will all fade like mist when i see you
until next monday morning...