I heard you
Say,
if I may?
Ravishing
from head to toes
And all points
In-between
As if I’ve not seen
The points between
Twenty toes
To destination
Overflows
And danger
love?
She spun
Of Venus
Slip of the tongue
Quick kiss
between us
On which the moon hung
In the peril
Of pearls
A fate now
unstrung
Between the lips
South by north
tiny pieces
Calling forth
A song was sung
Unknown discourse
On which the moon hung
With all our force
He brought peaches to my porch. There were four perfect peaches in a clear bag, placed on a table. They were still cold. These peaches, their skin so soft, and shining yellow and orange and maroon, bore his fragrance. I touched the stem that remained, the umbilical broken inside a dimple. I kissed it there..I delighted in his peaches. He toiled in pride, early mornings, with care, before the blossoms were born. His hands strong and bold with calloused labor. I tasted his peaches. I sat in the sun on the edge of summer, wood at my feet, stained with shiny sugar, brunch for bees, from the juices that escaped me. I studied the center, a pit pocked in sienna. I delighted in his peaches. I photographed them. On a brown batik background, the peach posed pretty for me. I painted his peaches. On canvas, I touched him with each…
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So this may be it..where karma’s wheel dispenses destiny..a fork in the road..destinations unknown, yet familiar. A stop at the plateau of where you and I go. May we “bare” this burden, our skin never fusing again, for just the thought brings panic and drink? I smoke, in exhaustion, thoughts and road maps. Exiting this scene one hundred times or more, soles without motion.
Men. I like them. The problem is, it’s in a very dysfunction manner. I like men in business suits. I like men with dark hair and dark eyes. I like intellectuals. I like men in dark sunglasses. I like thinking of men’s dirty thoughts about women. I like men who are aloof and distracted. I like men who don’t like me. I like westernized Asian men, oh boy, oh boy, one of my biggest fetishes. I like men with foreign accents. Men that say rrrreally? I like a man to be a gentleman on the outside and a seducer in the bedroom. I like staring at men, and licking my lips. I like wearing low-cut blouses with lots of cleavage to see if a man will look. Hopefully, he will not look, while I am looking. If I see him looking at the cleavage before I’ve had my second drink, the date, the relationship, the flirting , is over. I like men who stare at my mouth and fantasize about kissing my lips. That’s a turn on. I like men who can talk corporate policies and can write the language of the computer. He makes the ones and zeros soar across programs all over the world. That’s sexy.
I like seeing a man in a tie. I like imagining taking it off and blind folding him and kissing him all over his body while he lies blindly to my affections. I like seeing men drive Audis, BMWS, Lexus, and some rrrreally nice Hondas. I like the morning shadows men can grow on their faces. I like the feeling of sand paper on their chins from the gruff. I like men who take my face with both their hands and kiss me,first gently, then more passionately, exploring every aspect of my big American mouth. I like how they wear belts, and square toed dress shoes, and skinny pants. I like shirts with collars and men inside, being contemplative and passionate about their work. I like using my sex operator voice, when talking to men on the phone. I know it’s turning them on, and they continue to talk as if, I don’t know they are excited by my whispers and giggling. I like men who are weird tortured artists who have a great eye for detail and photography. I like seeing their underwear band sticking out from their jeans, and their muscular stomach and belly buttons with the hair traveling to their most precious destinations. I like men who are thoughtful about getting you to go out with them. The creative type that take the time to find out what you like and make arrangements to take you out and make you smile. They deserve some serious respect…and good loving for their efforts. I like when men flirt with me, and acting as if I’m oblivious by looking down and smiling. I like kissing a man on the corner of his lips, while I smash my breasts against him, knowing it’s turning him on, but he’s responding in a composed manner. I like when my eyes meet a mans eyes, and for that brief interlude we stare deeply into each others eyes, I get butterflies in my stomach, and look away, knowing he’s still looking…and smiling. I like men who send texts that say they are thinking of me. I like drunk men who grab me, unabashedly, and kiss me like they will never kiss a woman again. I like men who can draw well and paint. I like when a man cooks for me, or feeds me some food with his fingers while I look into his eyes. I like men who work hard and play hard. I like when a man opens the door for me, or pulls out my chair. Old fashioned manners can get a man almost to my bedroom door. I like men who read alot, like liberal posts, and watch MSNBC. I like a man brave enough to want to date me, knowing full well I’m very fucked up in the head. Kudos to him! I like when a man surprises me, and slowly leans into a slow soft kiss and I feel the hair on the back of my neck salute his lips. I like men who are emotionally unavailable. I like hearing a man breathe heavy, and groan when he climaxes on top of me, seeing him squeeze his eyes shut and his mouth opening. I like a man who can make me laugh and tease me with sexual innuendoes in the most constructive manner. I like younger men. I like men my age. I like tall men. I like stocky men. I like men of average height. I like seeing men without their shirts on and all the hair in their armpits. I like men who are slightly bow legged. I like men with deep chin dimples. It makes me hot. I like men, but I like men who really don’t like me.
Sea Said 