Tuesday, July 12, 2005

Heat


A jumble of articulation across steamy air
Sounds with no meaning
I float on a cushion thought
That has nothing to do with here.

A face drifts toward me
Blond hair, icy-blue eyes
Ruddy complexion, slick from the humidity
A body toned and tanned

Is he talking to me?
What does he want?
More jumbled sounds
What does he want from me?

The sounds order themselves
He questions me
I answer in his language, Yes.
He draws closer.

He smiles
His eyes sparkle
He touches my arm
As if we share a secret

I feel the heat of his body
Down the length of my side
Oppressive and humid
Like the air around us

He’s attractive
Knows his effect
Works it to perfection
But I know better

He speaks again
I reply, No
So he asks me of my homeland
His comments sound forced

He presses me
Urges me to a table
Holds a pen and a pad of paper
Poised to write

Again, I say, No
Not today
I don’t want
What you’re selling

His smile slips
Eyes dim
He walks away to find another
I’m nothing to him now

But still, I feel the heat of his body.

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