Warm Engine

byWillow Rain©

Heat lifts from my body
into the cool interior of my house.
My thighs pulse and jump
as if I were a well raced horse.
Sweat keeps my shirt
clinging to the sweeping curve of my lower back.
Music runs like water into my head and through my body.
My earphones float on my head.
The mp3 player is stuffed deep in my pocket,
fitting into the feminine well of my hip.
Damp hair clings to my throat.
The scent of the woods lingers with me,
sunshine, the river, rich wet red clay.
I feel full of heat and life.
My engine, warm and slow to cool,
purrs within me, vital, and well oiled.
I abandon my tennis shoes by the door,
and drink water from the sink with abandon.
I let it run down into my throat,
spill the confines of my mouth
and run in rivulets down to the hot moist
cleft of my breasts
making my shirt wet.
I embrace being alive.

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