Alan Spears
I was looking at a woman today, or maybe a girl. About twenty years old and drop dead foine. Black hair, green eyes, dimples and a perfect, round ass. My co-worker thinks I should not look. Not only am I a married man but my own daughter is only a few years younger than this girl. So I looked deep inside myself and decided. I never wanted anything from foine girl, don't want to have sex with her, don't want to go out with her, am not even hoping she finds me sexy. I am simply admiring beauty, much the way I admire sunsets. If I am wrong for that, then I ain't right.
Embrace
The sound of the word has texture,
like the ruffling of her shirt
in my hands.
Fingertips of the left
massaging shoulders.
The palm of the right
pressed into the small of her back.
Forehead to forehead.
Lips brushed against lips,
though not yet joined to form a kiss...
The temperature of a body multiplied by two
I could melt into you.
Embrace
The sound of the word has texture,
like the ruffling of her shirt
in my hands.
Fingertips of the left
massaging shoulders.
The palm of the right
pressed into the small of her back.
Forehead to forehead.
Lips brushed against lips,
though not yet joined to form a kiss...
The temperature of a body multiplied by two
I could melt into you.