After the day's lean into the sun's starlight:
next to me in the car, BlueShift slipped his shoes
off and opened his shirt; what fragrance rose from
his socks, midnight blue, beneath his bell-bottom
jeans' frayed, tattered cuffs.
No longer hesitant and inhibited,
I leaned into his warmth to taste his flavors:
of his lips and tongue, his pits and bared torso,
his soft, seductive socks, and the surge of his
e'lated sweetstuff.
Starward