this is making love

sobering breeze and my fingers playing out the window of the speeding suv.
the sky is shuddering and sobbing up ahead, globby tears that won't make it
to my windshield before bursting apart.

loud lights jostling over head, people jogging, cell phone prats slowing me down.
the car lurching forward after every red light, inane traffic that won't let up
until i'm in my driveway alone.

hungry hands tangled while my eyes never let go of the ground.
the pulse between us loud enough to wake the neighbors dog, too short to see
past the fence between his home and the restaurant.

laugh lines bleeding into my cheeks and speading across my body.
the kiss was thunder; uproarious outpour of silenced lips, too modest to say
the loveliness of evening was ruined.

remorseful retreat towards your car, only two spots form my jeep.
the pathetic sound of engines coming to life, too loud to hear your eyes plead
"come to bed with me" or "let's forget it"

sobering breeze and my fingers playing out the window of the speeding suv.
the sky is shuddering and sobbing up ahead, globby tears that soak your shirt and leave streaks on your jeans.

hazy headlights scan my driveway where he has waited for my joy ride to end.
the simple slow blink of his eye lashes tells me i am none too late
for his sweet berry colored memories to spoil.

stammering steam from the tea kettle boils endlessly.
the nakedness of your voice along my palm screams at him, too obvious for him to miss that i have kissed you.

gently grieving alone while he is on top of me.
the sheerness of this exchange where his hands graze me, too cliche
to ask for a separation, for him to release alone.

determined drumming of his pelvis hammering you out of me.
the audacity of him, assuming i enjoy this better. assuming i'm not replaying our walk around a parking lot and into each others arms.

he mutters: "this. is. making. love."
so seriously, i'm sure he's speaking to you.


...