In honor of "Throw-Back Thursdays,"
I present to you a poem, aging and unleashed to the world.
Shameless (May 2011)
When you pulled me in and we started to kiss,
I could not stop myself.
Torn between the soul of the blues and the rock of the roll,
I loved the way your lips parted without hesitation.
This one, lone, star found the heart of Texas.
Astonished and surrounded by moon towers and taxis,
I traced the bone of your jaw with my fingers
to the lids of your eyes,
unveiled from glass,
that brightend up the sky
long after we'd vacated the coverage of the trees in bloom.
Then, watching as you slept on air of ample respect,
I was committed to the heft of your breath.
Beads of sweat swelled on your brow
and I listened for the familiarity behind your breast.
Each heavy exhale was a desire
reflected off of the walls of a concrete, nervous laugh.
I had sprung crisp, involuntary
and clean inhalation of southern air
that pruned me down to sleep
through a pounding in my head
as I remembered how we held
long after you'd placed them in your pockets for a day's deed done.
You are in the lead of a packed crowd like the Pied Piper
and I follow in the manor of a riskless city rodent.
The walk wasn't long for these boots to two-step,
twirling in the night of flesh
and the friends we are capable
of offering the world to
I could have kissed you all night,
in my sleep,
with opened eyes,
wearing but a smile behind those locked doors,
as the skulking skin
of intoxicating boundaries vanished
as soon as they astablished
but be left
with but an empty wallet at day break.