Her smudged fluorescent pink lipstick

Stained my white collar

“No matter, it arouses my libedo

A trophy stain of conquest.”

Fearing we’d be late to the concert

I hurriedly pushed her black, high heeled

Stiletto shoes onto her

Beautifully sleek feet

Covered in satin gray,

Stockinged splendor

Rising upward to her

Slim ankles

Up her Shins,

Her calves

To succulent thighs

Arousing my senses to the point

Where I almost pulled her up onto

The bed, enveloping her again

In passionate positions of love holds, yet

Regrettably caught between

Each other’s longing to be together

And friends waiting for us

At our mutual rendezvous

The night is pitch black

As we take each other hand-in-hand

And step into the void

Street lamps light our path on the walk

To the subway station in San Francisco City

The sky holds bright

White sparks of light

Stars shimmering in the stark and cold

Brittle air of December’s store

“We’re late,” she lamented

Softly in my ear.

Fluorescent light illuminates the car’s interior

Passengers within are half alert, glassy eyed

Staring into nothingness

At 9 p.m.

Some going to late-night work shifts

Others returning

Some who knows where

” It’s okay.” I reassure her

“It’s chic to be late.”

Looking into her green eyes,

Oblivious to repercussion

“Promises are sometimes made to be broken.”

Tantalizing she is

Forbidden love but true

Like sex in a midnight swimming pool

A part of the night has been taken

By our meeting in this hotel resort

Like honey when stolen

Tasting sweeter

Off the train we run

Making up for lost time

Young lovers,

Adventure seeking rebels

Off the beaten path

Of routine and obligation

Another fork of decision . . .

Indecision

“Shall we continue our liaison

Unabated?”

“We owe no one.”

“Tonight can be ours.”

We stumble past

An alley intersection shortcut

We are familiar with the route

We run a block and a half

Heaving cold, fog mist of vapor

Breath into each other’s faces

“Let’s forget the concert and go back to the room.”

“What do you say?” He ventures

She looks back up at him,

Breathless and unsure

Her will belongs to him this night

The cold air hangs heavy and wet,

Invisible, uncomfortable,

Clinging and stinging

Her once warm face

“I’m cold. Yes. We’re too late. They won’t miss us.”

She smiles in the half light of overhead street lamps

Neon flashes colored mottled and kaleidoscopic sparks

Both of them drunk in love

Tossing care to oblivion,

Shoes and friends to the curb

They run

Romantic nocturnal gazelles

Paired in flight

Clothed in love,

Hands gripped tightly,

Warm and sensuous

Palms perfumed in

The other’s own hormonal oils

Young love,

Desiringly, drunkenly smiling

Caught in each other’s spell

Hypnotically, telepathically, wordlessly

Of one mind

They sprint back to the subway station

To melt, and warm themselves in each other’s

Naked, soft . . . Pulsating . . .

Warm embrace of human flesh

For third time this night