i thought i wrote this moment,
inked it out
perfectly story-boarded with a crack team of hollywood writers
pencil behind my ear, as i nod & drink coffee, or merlot,
looking fabulous & pretending to be only so
interested . .
predicting the whiz-bang-heart-beat, the tasty blend of bile & dry cotton in my mouth
it would be morning, early & pink
and i would be rising ; putting on sweats, chopin & coffee
when suddenly i would trip over you ... somehow. dramatic in 1080 pixels
( soundtrack available on itunes june 16th )
inked out . .
but when the first cadence of your words hit me ::
the proper capitalization, the pace & repetition
and i mean " to the nines . . the rough, the smooth . . the escape "
my eyes closed, my breathe caught
i smiled ( just a wee wry smile, lips closed sorta smile ... small, barely perceptible sorta smile )
& i breathed
iris, wet green grass
a home-made, from scratch sweet-cherry-pie . .
cinnamon & sugar dusting on the top
slightly warm with french-vanilla ice cream
real french-vanilla with all those little wee flecks of bean
and i could smell & taste , and i could feel
i could feel ...
the amber-raw-silk of you -
protective, sure & hard & ohh so tender
the older i become, the less i know ....
except for this
i did not anticipate
the exploding levity of my heart
honestly !! - the unmistaken taste of bile & cotton-white
and yes , ,
that pull of heat & want & sex & surrender . . it's there. damn.
it's all there
. . and then .....
with each word
i fell from time
the thunderstorm rolled in
& rain fell storying
the layered complexity & beauty of life & love
bolting right thru me ....
grace was untethered by our intimacy
and sureness sleeps in the mandrin-knowledge of skin to skin . .
complete, unconditional sweet-cherry-pie