It’s about heat,
It’s about the humidity,
It’s about the summertime,
In the city,
It’s about the spotting him,
In a crowd,
It’s about passion and
Love,
It’s about annoying,
the neighbors below and
Above.
It’s about open windows,
The rhythmic hum of the cecil fan,
It’s about the lack of clothes,
and inhibitions,
It’s about finding him,
It’s about your heartbeat,
and breathing,
It’s about finding the right,
mix between the in’s and the outs,
It’s about raw energy,
and emotion,
It’s about blending,
Your souls into one.

I am a dreamer,
                    and you,
you are a doer.

You make all your dreams,
                    come true,
I am stuck in dreams,
never waking up,
never following through.

I’ve painted myself,
                     into a corner,
I can’t escape the truth,
                     to afraid,
To leave foot prints,
                      in the former.

Melodic,

Soulful,

Comforting. 

the fireplace

sends shadows across the room

so?
do
you
want
to
sit
in
the
sand
and
listen
to
the
sound
of
the
waves
crashing
onto
the
beach?

Your tongue passes over your lips,
Coconut oil is absorbed in your skin,
You tie your bikini at your hips,
Avoiding the glances of unknown men.

Your feet feel the fire of the mid-day sand,
The salt water sticks to your hair,
You sit with a drink in your hand,
Out of site and without a care.


Your eyes look out to the sea,
Sweat trickles down your spine,
The person sitting next to you is me,
The hand you feel is mine.

I arrive alone, in a nondescript little European car.
There is an open field with two tables.
A chef of some great prominence is cooking:
to order.
There are people all around,
but I know, no one.
A man who is trying to impress his girlfriend,
Over exaggerates his appreciation for such,
a finely cooked meal.
I know I will be seated right next to him.
I know how my luck runs.

The chef is such a beautiful person,
Care free, fun loving and doing what she
really wants to do in life:
making people happy with her art/food.
She is working at such frenetic pace, but
graceful:
A well oiled machine. A pleasure to just
sit back and watch. A ballerina with an
apron.

She comes up and introduces herself to me.
She needs no introduction. She is the picture
of perfection, me, on the other hand, well,
I could use more antiperspirant, I feel like
I’ve swallowed a chili pepper or two and my stomach
is in knots.

I start to walk to Mr. Exaggerations table and She invites me
to sit at the other table. It looks like all the occupants are
done eating, but there is the feel of easiness and content.
There is wine or water… and a easy conversation flowing.

Smiles and laughter. They seem to be use to this.
I have a sense that this might be her family.

I sit, and the boy next to me pours me a glass of wine,
He smiles and tells me about the band that will play in
the park a short distances away. He invites me to go with
him.

She brings me the meal she has so carefully prepared
to the table. I am too nervous to eat around her and say so,
she laughs. I ask her if she will go to the park with me and my
new friend. She smiles again and introduces me to her son.

I realize they rest of the table has stop talking and turned
to stare at me. I realized I have just asked out a married women.
I realize the buzzing in my head is my alarm

I held her in my arms,
for only a minute,
we kissed for only a second,
i caught just a fleeting glimpse,
of her smile,
her breast just glanced off my arm,
as she walked past me,
and yet her soul has stayed with me,
for a life time.

I want to kiss her,
to her soul,
I want to kiss her,
so her toes scrunch up,
I want to kiss her,
so she wakes up,
the world.

I want to wake up next to you,

but the proverbial pillow,

is always in the way.