she knows

that i will be back. she told me so. i won’t and don’t deserve

her time but on chance

i might catch her

with her head swirling, wined, and

with her heart, nostalgic

and then there’s always a time to sit back with a beer in one hand, the back of her head in the other, and the crimson (wine, lipstick, desire) smearrrred long along –

my lover knows that she’ll be back

now i know

she said,

‘can i tell you a secret?’

(she was drunk, and with it, honest and brave)

as she put her arms around me, and rest her head against my chest, she whispered,

‘i’m in love with another man’

her confession surprised (but pleased) me, and i asked,

“does he know?”

‘my husband? no. the other man? he’s just about to’

her weight shifted

her head slid to my lap

her hand gripped my thigh

(oh yes, now i know)


i wish i had

known you when you

were twenty


(when you knew how, but didn’t know any


for my lips to taste your skin, and

for my mind to taste your

, character.

perhaps when we’re fifty, we can meet, kiss, laugh, fuck, dream, and cry twice-

in the twice windy city.


connection. escalation. brake. whispers. escalation. escalation. brake. sweet nothings. escalation. wine. cross room glances. stolen moments. brake. smile. escalation. escalation. oh fuck escala… brake. lingering memory. serenade. escalation. poet for your story. date. entwined fingers. sighs. late night calls. escalation. nomorebrakes. justbabysteps. fornow.

star rise

why is the focus 

always on the fucking sun


sure, it’s beautiful and such but that’s the moment that the stars


out to sexify my sight

(like doe eyes in my light)
it’s not a fucking sunset to me, but rather

a star rise


Diamonds. Beers by a beach camp-fire. Stories from our youth. The first time for anything. Languid sex on a stormy night. Making a new friend. Airline stewardesses. Wine gluttony. The fucking best coffee you ever tasted, the perfect aroma, texture, temperature and mouth feel fuck yes. Anything that fills your cup, your senses and makes you fucking cry with joy. The sight of seeing your child born. A first kiss, quickly followed by a first fuck. That moment, you know, of that first “touch” of sin on sin. That glance and smile across the crowded room that leads to whatever you want it to. The way she plays with her hair and the way he leans in to you. A sunrise with promise. A sunset with no regrets. Life, well lived, loved, and with dancing.