What exactly do I remember best, the bits of fragrance, the softness of flesh, the jumble of thoughts rolling around in my head, drunk before the first sip of wine, being inebriated by being so close, I could reach out and touch, grab what it is I wanted, and yet resisted.
what exactly do I
recall, if anything at all, the staggering moments when she could reach out in
touch me, to do whatever she liked, as if I am a trained poodle or one of those
mob dat ragtop pups, women like her stick in their purses and let out for show,
maybe that's exactly what I wanted all along, to cling to her heels at the end
of a leash, to sit up, sit down, bark, roll over, each command filled with
ever-present promise of reward
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