Whenever the embrace, the hold me, as in the love squeeze when vaginal play overtakes the exhausted male member and music huffs from the mutual lung sacks
it becomes in the pause that moment when I clasp the genuine first -- not intercoursively, but over the school gym floor with the chaperones and the cycling wax of popular songs
our hands and cheeks slipping then cleaved in the Fahrenheit, the smell of her hair, the roll of our step, the quiet village of our turns, the dance between
"...the quiet village of our turns" is wonderful. I wish I had written it.
ReplyDeleteTess,
ReplyDeleteI could repeat that wish about so many of your lines and phrases.
This one went through several transformations, based originally on the exotic pop tune title "Quiet Village" by Martin Denny and on a still-retained memory of a 'slow dance' contest she and I placed in.
(Do I not reconfirm just how dated I am?)
TF