“Movement #1,” May Sketches

I have faded into your
chapbook of dreams
plans for tomorrow
anticipation for sex.
Close, naked, trembling,
you held me fast during
sudden spasmodic movements,
tunnel swirling awareness,
rapid red-eye sleep.
You crumble like amphetamine salts
to my titillating quartz touch
and tingling sensual strokes;
throttle me forward, skyward —
I’ll take you down smooth with
a cigarette and a shot of 12-year scotch.

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