You said,
“Let’s get out of this joint”
I didn’t move
You took me by wobbly joints
Into the cold November air
& We lit a pregnant joint

Reclining on the garden bench,
leaning on my shoulder,
your eyes intently watch
something, I notice, though,
in my book,I am engrossed.

Taking eyes off the page,
I scan the the fecund garden,
abuzz with bees, chirping birds,
all kinds of hums and songs of life,
                                  spring brings,
and then, my eyes catch
that scene:your object of intense interest,

Two mating birds, in their frenzy of love;
two love struck mandarin ducks, very colorful.
                                   It's in this season they find, their pair,
                                    and give themselves to shameless lust,
                                   gentle tune of their bodies turning,
                                    intense, scorching their *****.

You withdraw, feeling shy
on your voyeuristic streak,
which i found out, inadvertently,
*but your eyes, cryptically,
make inquiries to me,
"Interested?" I whisper"Of course'
that sounds like an evil hiss

Pitch dark night, rock still above woods,
is chiseled by a million fireflies,
in unison with their
mute, synchronised lights.

A mutant lover,
now, I 've become,
your creation to a tee.
Different forms I take,
a rabbit, a squirrel,
Tasmanian devil,
or any other marsupial,
a mute nameless animal,
some times even an elephant,
to keep you in good humor,
even when craving for your love.

Life is a seductive maiden,
extending two vials,
looking equally nice,
on her lovely hands
for you to choose from;
one contains, elixir of life,
the other poison
for  slow extinction.
She enigmatically smiles,
making you irresolute;
you have to select one,
here and now, it'll decide,
what your fate will be,
in the long run.
*Don't flinch or dither a bit,
this moment is paramount;
look at her eyes intently
and extract a clue, act!

I ask.

Untangling the knot you've made with our fingers
in the dark.

Quietly,

I wait for a response
that will justify your behavior,
or condone my own.
(all the while)

Knowing that you don't have one
to give.