i mix the words
in degrees and proportions
there is pace and rhythm
and the all important
implied scenario
of you dragging me into
the recline of your motives
there is the disco ball spinning
over your intimate dance floor
the sip of beer
the culinary delight
the tactile shimmer
of your kiss
but the words on a page
are not the potion
that gives me
the rapture of
your passion
and the attainment
of your expectation