Saturday, July 26, 2008
I can feel my body being crushed between a wall and a "hard" place. I can feel the puffs of air leave my mouth and the strands of hair on my lips. I move them away. I can hear someone singing "C'mon girl, let's get it right." Coming dear. I don't have time, just lift the skirt. I don't have time, just--- right there. Right. . . there. I can smell the sweat. I can feel the tremble in my knees. I can hear the desperation in your voice. Can you get in? "C'mon girl, c'mon girl." I'm coming. I can taste the salt on your lips and on your neck. I can taste the strand of hair again. I need a ponytail, dammit! I can feel you groping for more breast and skirt and time. I can hear the deafening crescendo. Did you say, "C'mon girl?" I heard you, I'm on my way.