to love him up and down

but it wasn’t dirty or even physical. Oooo…I would see him without looking directly into the handsome mass like one of those beautiful, shiny, black water puppies emerging out of the wetness, flinging herself fluffy dry…this is how I would shake. He had no idea of the dreams he turned up in me as I dreamed our lives round as the deepest, darkest rim of an Afrikan vowel forming impassioned words of untied, paid in full restitution and he didn’t swagger, he hacked, held his head and body as if he drove in on a Cadillac platform with stern, ripped masculine legs for wheels. I was determined to impose myself as a passenger, exclusive of the enigmatic, unassumingly footsteps he left, still smoking in front of me. It filled my lungs  so he would be all I could breathe.

The scent triggered a succession of savory memory and…  I don’t think I’m  finished loving him yet.


4 thoughts on “to love him up and down

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