How are you?
"When can I see you
"In 2 hours or
I walked to the door.
"You walk like a
poem,” she said.
"See you in 2
hours,” I told
—Charles Bukowski, Soup, Cosmos And Tears
I’m not exactly sure what I want but—
your wet candy lips, sweet sticky hickeys,
the geometry of your shoulders, the vertex
of your collar bone, your laughter like a May
morning, the silhouette of your body in the
dark, slender and beguiling, the prickly per-
fectness of your almost beard, your finger-
tips, callous with talent, the muffled pillow
moans, the loud, unbridled moans, my cold
feet between your legs, your lava lamp eyes—
that all sounds pretty fucking good.