TheAmbassadorOfRomanceInVenus's blog: "Thoughts"

part verse, part prose, this is a sensual story of heat... Kind of Heat The coffee house is hot. A ceiling fan beating The thick, obstinate air, Lethargically imparts Humid exhalations That slide over my skin Leaving greasy wetness. Sitting in the corner, A guy strums a six string Doing his best Bob Dylan, Lyrically lashing Social ineptitude. Exotic fragrances Of varied fresh coffees Permeate everything… Relaxation, Stimulation In every breath. Across from me she sits, Fanning herself slowly. Fascinated, I watch A bead of sweat slowly Meander down her throat, Over a swell of breast And disappear between… I’ve made that journey… Just yesterday… The day was sunny, filled with light breezes, cotton ball clouds and a blue sky…such days poets write about. There is a scent on the wind, however…a portent of rain perhaps…or maybe, anticipation. Quickly but carefully, the canoe was loaded and pushed off into the slow current of the river. She at first sat in the bow, but soon lay back against the packs, occasionally allowing one of her feet to dip briefly in the water. She was pleased to find it pleasantly cool. In the stern, I guided the canoe with practiced strokes of the paddle, a smiling, watching her. The day has possibilities, I remember thinking. While remaining alert, I let my thoughts flow in playful streams… So peaceful it is, floating down the river with just the wind, water, sky and you. My paddle thunks against the canoe, an indication that I am not at peace…not all of me at least…for you are there, stretched out in the sun, A mirror of nature…your fingers trailing in the water… You are smiling but I cannot see your eyes…they are hidden behind dark glasses…are you sleeping or just pretending, secretly watching me gaze at you? Are you watching the way my eyes wander along yours arms, shoulders and legs, stopping to admire the swell of your breasts, the gentle slope of your lower belly and the lovely expanse of thigh? Can you see the fires building in my eyes, those happy geographic explorers, as they delve into every crevice, climb every hill, seeking out the hidden and sacred places of your landscape? Yes, I believe you are watching…this artful display was no accident…you know what you are doing…delightfully evil creature…seductress…witch… you have cast a spell and it is working. Your magic is assaulting the ramparts of my will, undermining it…the call is subtle, sweet and powerful…the walls of my control fall like those of Jericho, before your song…the pieces tumble and fall in disarray at your feet… A fish jumping not far from the boat broke my reverie. For a moment, it hung in the air, surrounded by pieces of prismatic color, from the droplets of water flung by its ascent…then i