The roasting winds of an Indian summer afternoon
That heat from the sky makes me long
For the warmth of her jubblies.
The clutch of the bike doesn’t care who’s coming
As the mind gets numb
Remembering the known aroma of the junction of her thighs.
She waits for that doorbell on her throbbing heart
I jump the stairs like there’s no tomorrow.
The doors open.
The spark in the eyes.
Who’s gonna wait for a second now?
The lips join like the head prostrates to the ground in a prayer.
That hypnotic sweet smell of her armpits
I swallow down to the core of my sensuous veins.
The sweat on my chest
She tastes like the lunch was a little less salty today.
She arranged the curtains in a way she knew
How to play with the light on her poetic body.
Entwining, spreading, pinning, encircling
The unison lasted as warm as the arrival of the springs,
As tender as the budding of the Orchids.
Trembing, quivering, jerking, pulsating
My body busy in silence only to explore
Every inch of the nectar of her exquisite body.
Fools are those who wait for the winters to cuddle.
It is the summer wind that carries all the ingredients for lovers.
Sweaty, untamed, wild, animalish
These are the signs of youthfulness.
Play the tender delicate games when you won’t be fit
For the summers to roast your bodies
For those sultry afternoon love-making sessions.
Picture Courtesy ~ Maria Teresa Lacolare (People Series)