: grandprix poem


In you presence I feel the sensation of screaming wind -
my hair blown straight back,
my heart racing like the engine of your new sports car;
tires squeal, confidently holding the pavement while cornering,
all hormonal systems go!
We stand close enough to lean on each other,
yet a hair's breadth apart;
sexual tension crackling between our bodies,
each one shooting sparks that ground onto the other.

I look fully into your eyes and my knees turn to water.
I want to sink to the ground
with your urgent body on mine
rhythmically flexing and thrusting,
your tongue teasing,
your hands confidently claiming the willing prize
which makes us both victors.
All this in a flashing instant!
I tear my glance from yours, still talking calmly;
What am I chatting about?  I wonder
as we stand in full view of coworkers.

You and I, with exteriors of smooth enamel,
polished surfaces hardened and fired by molten interiors
and the crucible of experience;
the lava ready to break through the crust with a moment's touch.
Breathless, lightheaded, I smile, my mouth dry,
the bead of sweat tickling its way down my back
(the price of self-control).
All too aware of your taut flesh,
desire's white heat whips through my veins,
all the more sweetly painful
because it is secret.