Wednesday, June 6, 2012
I read your story this morning. It was the first thing I did following morning thanks and a shower. I'm glad I didn't read it prior to the shower. I would never have left. I was so turned on by the words and imagery. I want the heat that emanates from those curves to tighten around my torso and to make it hard for me to think. I want to dress those naked breasts with my palms and place her perked nipples between my trembling lips; circle their silhouette with my tongue. That was half a day ago and I'm still very much taken by it.
Aside from being erotic and beautiful, it described exactly how I have felt most of the time; how I continue to feel most of the time. There is something missing- there is a disconnect between myself and everything else. It's as if I know the truth, a secret told to me long before I was ever born and though now a hazy recollection, I know I know something. I just can't remember.
It's one of the few times that I have ever read something where a connection was sparked. Picture a set of hands taking hold of wires dangling underneath the steering wheel and tying them together. Tiny bursts of electricity jump and crackle. Then, a steady rumble, room-room-room-room-room-room... holds firm.
I can't yet see the road before me but at least I now know I may begin to move and as I sit here on the long vinyl seat of this 1975 pick-up truck, a verse or two, I shall write for you...
a rich man
"what piqued my interest", she asked.
isn't that what always gets us?
what gal in a white summer dress dances and twirls
steps from where i stand?
what creature, whose beauty is found
not in her strawberry colored lips but
in the little girl laugh that flowers
from inside her,
waits behind a door i've yet to open?
what chance is there that she,
who will suspend my awaken hours
and lift me onto a bed of clouds,
while humming lullabies
as she sips and sits in wait with butter cookies and lemonade?
whatever the chance, i wager it all.
the playfulness amidst polite flirtation with which you reach out,
to think perhaps the spring which blooms the blossom of possibility,
may be in you.
may i open that door… may my bet make me
a rich man…