Surfing In Seattle

Surfing In Seattle

Yes. You are out there, surreptitiously
scrolling, scanning.
What is that fantasy? The affair...
do I dare?

Fingers manipulate, juices percolate, nipples
stiffen, you read and witness and imagine, why not?
One man, the Right Man, hell, any man, ha ha...
No, one right man with the same need...

How did life get so dull? How would it be
to surrender to shameless lust? One man, say,
to get to know, but not too much.
Same time same place, my place your place?

You continue to scroll and scan and finger
the ardent clit, there’s more to it than that. The feast
of brazen tits and inviting ass and dripping cunts
and cocks at full mast pass before your eyes,
and it’s fun.but it’s the words the thoughts
that make you blush and squirm and squish in your seat.

Are we all sluts and satyrs? Well, no. But yes.
The Olympians hover over the Sound, Silent Hulking
Sentries. They will one day grind to dust, but for now
they bear witness to our mortality. Each day we live
without living we fade and fade...

It needn’t be so hard. A glance while thumbing
through the lettuce at the market...no, not enough.
An ad on the net? Dicey at best. Maybe joining
the dance at Starbucks, wearing something tight,
Something low...

Or, maybe...
Maybe here, somewhere among these authors...
Maybe we could fashion our own erotic tale.
Maybe we could act it out and it could be real
and thrilling and maybe it would fill and fill. And maybe
it would last and go on and on and on...

Or, maybe it’s all fantasy and should be.

Maybe not.