.
.
.
I must have been a porn queen
in a life before this,
to have this burning,
secret
desire to simply fuck
in open spaces,
where someone,
anyone
could watch me,
you,
us,
moving together-
rejoicing in our ecstasy,
burning with jealousy,
relishing our abandoned,
synchronous movement.
.
This knowing a secret
twenty-dollar bill
tucked deep
in a forgotten pocket,
if only
you could remember
exactly where you left it
or
how to stretch fingers out,
just beyond your grasp.
.
So
I’ll make love to you –
legs entangled,
our harmonies like crickets
nestling in the grass,
my sounds swallowed
by your mouth.
And just over the hill-top
the music plays
and the looky-loos travel on,
us visible
only in peripheral vision
as you slide your fingers deeply
into my pockets,
touch all my edges –
searching for secrets.
.
I feel the porn star slipping past.
With you she’s always there,
never out of reach.
.
Love,
Sally