On you, my

leather coat

becomes skin

and crime.

If only you'd

share this

cigarette - :

I'd melt

all over

the lawn.

With each cold

note you leave

for me, I slip

further into

this awkward

reverie.

I will tie them all

(gingerly) together;

a monument to

my sterile

erection.

Don't look now

but tousles of

your famous

red hair

are dancing

sardonically

against

my thighs.

I imagine

the circuits

of flesh

while you

undress.

Synapse

from elbow

to groin.

Flawed only

in my coveting;

branded with

my imaginary

name.

This is the

second time,

in as

many weeks,

that I've hurt

myself

while

fucking you.

I write this

for posterity

only.

When I am

older

and can no

longer

pleasure you at all,

we can look

back

to here,

and see

that I've

told you so.

To fall -:

apart

into place?

A question

so simple

were I a

beggar or

braggart.

I am neither.

More a

Sisyphean

smile

stretching from

crown to

sternum.

The only

known cure

for the

absurd.

She looked

like

it

was easy.

Clean, precise;

natural

as castration

or death.

It rained

to-day

only

while

I was

out in

it.

An engine drives

the fist which

pulls - :

no punches.

My memory

traces the outline

of your hips

in cigarette

smoke.

We were lovers

once an

ocean of time ago.

The phantoms

of your skin

washing up

all along the beach.

The physical act so

sweaty and dangerous,

austere and violently dramatic - :

poetry in motion; hands

grasping.

I love it when the light

is on

(to your right)

and you meet me

halfway in the

passion battlefield of our lust.

A doorway is opened to

erotic insight;

delirium; tainted slightly

but moving.

Your touch exuberant:

dancing in these night-

time moments

painting pictures like

train wrecks of ecstasy.