take the long week-end off

off to the beach
where we lie
on the sand and pretend
that we’re not so much
of city dwellers for now, and take
off my clothes, and trace the contours
of my body
every crevice that is me
every curve that is yours
every caress that is mine
every touch that is you, and whisk me
off to the skylight, in the flight
of the day
off to where she was before dawn, and
off will all the lights go, and we will be clothed
of the darkness, in our
nakedness that binds us
more than that, and
more and then less, and
more and then less still, and
more and less still, and
more, and
and more still
till we both
blow off
[Got this again from one of my older notebooks. Never found it until recently.
This reminds me of the song from the musical Spring Awakening called The Word of Your Body.
“Oh, I’m gonna be wounded
Oh, I’m gonna be your wound
Oh, I’m gonna bruise you
Oh, You’re gonna be my bruise.”
Very sensual. I like.]

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