Fallen Angels

Top-down speeding
mid-week Interstate
across Arizona
again, running late,
Already took a shower
towel around her hair
half a glass of wine
when I get there,

Knock on the door
opens it to look
me standing there
reads me like a book,
Kiss her like a lover
returning from the war
robe slips off her shoulder
falls to the floor,

Tells me I am late
her scent, a summer breeze
I smell like the Interstate
yes, wine, please,
She strolls across the room
pours me a glass
the outline of her body
my heart beating fast,

Turns around impervious
to her nudity
hands me the glass
say, it’s good to see,
See you again
buzzing from your travel
like several times before
the Judge and the gavel,

Guilty as charged
must pay compensation
tells me what she wants
her sensual expectation,
Sprawled on the bed
I look at her and smile
one cannot deny
she has captivating style,

So, we spend the afternoon
wine, sex and little sleep
no fixed agenda
no promises to keep,
Around about eight
we slip out for a bite
then sleep like fallen angels
the rest of the night,