Sunday Afternoon

We lay in bed with our clothes
strewn from the night before.
The dust in the air is exposed
by the morning light just before it
hits the hardwood floor.

As you close your eyes to sleep,
you wrap your arms around my waist
and kiss the middle of by back,
forgetting how it tastes.

The radiator, with its twenty coats of paint,
is still no longer giving off heat,
and the windows are frosty, another reason
to stay under the sheets.

I put my hands over yours
as you pull my waist into you.
We lay in bed till the middle
of the late afternoon.

One of My Favorites

I Wish in the City of Your Heart
by Robley Wilson

I wish in the city of your heart
you would let me be the street
where you walk when you
are most yourself.

I imagine the houses. It has
been raining, but the rain is done
and the children kept home
have begun opening their doors.

A Dorm Room Afternoon

He was back from summer vacation.
The time away put a strain on our relationship.
He looked older with his thick beard,
and his long blonde hair, a contrast to his darker skin.
I tried to look my best wearing a new shirt
and displaying a new tan, hoping he might think
he was lucky to have me.

We both had smiles on our faces as I walked
towards him. We were hesitant,
not knowing quite what to do. He spread
his arms out slowly, I rushed
to get inside of them to lessen the awkwardness.
His mustache tickled my lip, he told me
he would shave it if I wanted him to.

The dorm room looked cluttered, with all the bar-coded furniture
sitting in the center of the room. We laid down
on his blue sheets, where we would spend the day.
The hum of the window unit
seemed to put us both at ease. His clammy hands
kept touching my legs. He told me
he liked it when I wore skirts,
trying not to reveal what he was really thinking.

He pulled me in, his scent
strong from the summer heat. I moved
my head to his chest, my hand slid
under his shirt to feel his cool skin.
Rolling over, we looked at the brown stains
on the ceiling as if they were stars.
I had all day with him,
but I already missed his face.
I wanted to tell him I loved him, though I knew
it would go unsaid.

The Moment

A bottomless cup of meaningless conversation,
over coffee, seated at quersy.

Recognition of the smile on your face,
knowing the sudden enlightment.

Refreshed by newness of life,
your appreciation for everything.

Listening to your Roarkian outlook on life
and wishing I didn't ruin
your idealistic view of love so often.

Annoyed when you cover your lip with finger,
I want to see all of you.

Your inability to let it pass without commenting,
usually expressed by,
"I love you" or "You're beautiful."


... you are indeed.