The East Village
ONE BY ONE
So, who tricks who? After I show you my bruise,
you still seem surprised by my skin. After we lay on each other's tummy,
you burp out silent air and shake me from a dream I was having...
using your belly as a pillow.
I was surrounded by a circle of legs, at each ankle lay my favorite pair
of your panties. Each leg was standing solo, no body attached yet
very much alive and perfect, as tall as I was. One by one, I was to go
behind each knee and start my tongue. What direction I went in
depended on whatever a huge loudspeaker hanging overhead
would yell out. The atmosphere was electric with sex yet brutal
in a work-for-hire kinda way.
I was laying on top of you, our bodies intertwined. One long stroke
would follow a few short ones. As we stared into our eyes, my hands
were somehow holding your perfect back, we were suspended
over a blanket as large as a room.
I started to say something and your hand covered my mouth. I put
my hand on yours to move it away from my mouth, and lost my grip
you plummeted. I saw your naked body falling away from me, your hair
as wild as a black parachute with silve streaks. Your hips and perfect ass
a mannequin out of my reach. You landed on the blanket as I was
burped awake by your belly.
There is no length attached to our consumption
my hunger, a constant parasite
for what's just out of reach
There is no curve for the name of our bodies
inside you, my hands are just now
in touch with this fall