2010
You smell like desire
but that wasn’t it
Your skin is… a sacrament
but that wasn’t it
You made beautiful sounds when I
licked your beautiful cock
but that wasn’t it
And you touched me as I touch
myself
but that wasn’t it,
not at all
If, holding back nothing, no language, I express
the analogies and abstractions of this consciousness,
your eyes stay with me; you don’t shuffle or shift
or request I repeat or rephrase —
but that wasn’t it,
not really
I just thought
it might be good
to sit with you quietly
not even touching
staring at nothing
ignoring everything
but the music