Saturday, August 6, 2016

cool oil

Cool oil drips off her shouldersfrom where his fingers touchShe never meant to go where she wentnext, but so light was his touch,she could not resist. The gritof sand from the beach whereshe had laid out, gone, leaving onlyhis smooth embrace and hisface inches above herswhen at last they grasp thatwhich she suspected mightcome after that. This is no dreamfrom that month long visit to other beaches elsewhere in the world where hewas transformed fromstrange to friend the way acatapiller is to a butterfly they sharethe same cocoon feeling eachother chest to chest, hip tohip until for that briefmoment after the oil and touchafter the caress and the rub, they slip into each other, and become one, love, yes,'but a love that may or may notreoccur and so mustbe taken whole at that moment.

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