8 AM

It’s time for a square outfit

and

a Smile No.3

I look further in my agenda:

7 PM

My apron is due,

Pizza Hut perfume.

11 PM

I’m a wild cat

with lipstick, cherry red.

So many roles to play:

Daughter, Mother

Sister, Friend

Colleague, Boss

Student, Teacher

Wife, Lover.

So many acronyms to wear:

Miss, Mrs.

B.Sc., M.Sc

Ph.D.

When it’s time for me?

To wear I?

You move like a snake

silently, smoothly, along soft and

from morning dew wet grass.

I found your shed skin beside the lake,

a trace, a mark to follow

already drunk of your sweet fragrance.

There you wait for me on the edge of the woods

but your are a chameleon: every tree, leaf, whisper

of air says your name, hide you, then expose you in twister

and I’m in trance, exhausted of search.

I lean my body on the nearest birch to rest, your alertness

to test.

And there you come,

gorgeous in all your beauty to ****** me with flickering

fiery licks of the tongue that glides over my skin, biting my chin.

I shed my dress, with sky’s bless

Love and Earth, Eden in birth of our desire

endless and restless.

Lake ripples, burbles in sweet aches of waves

upon the gravy shore.

I wake up. I see your peaceful face resting beside mine.

You are a dream of the realm unseen.

There are no descriptors to describe my adore.

I bend to kiss you and hurry to pick up the clothes from the floor.

I glaze a look at the street, from

our apartment window.



You are coming slowly, teetering

one leg in front other, with back slightly hunched forward,

burdened with sleepless nights and yesterday’s undones.

Vibrant spirit once you had is lost, tossed among crowded

train wagons, useless meetings and broken deadlines.



One vein in the left corner of your forehead, swells, pulses in the rhythm

of your dark, fuddled thoughts as unremitting, sprouting baldness

reflects evening lights.



Still, I smile,

for you are here, with me in all this madness

we call life, half diced with wants and haunts that braid

every tomorrow we greet together.



I would like to put you in a different frame, picture of

nor “Yeses” nor “Nos”,

just us, being us, each moment celebrating

without lamenting for what “ifs” or “shoulds” and “coulds”.



Still, I smile,

as  I watch you battle your restless leg syndrome,

wrestling to sooth demanding expectations,

lifted bars for higher remunerations, in constant marathon

of best comparison,

for you care, you dare.



I take your hand with eyes of approval,

life’s ****** and gigolette,

ready to play each day’s illusive roulette.

You lie next to me,
Trying to count your despairs,
And I realize we are both in wrong love affairs.

Hey dear, this is all a misnomer,
I’m not here to judge or interfere.
I just like to simmer in your presence
It’s the only I can offer tactic defense.

Don’t believe blindly in future.
Is it really going to be better?
Lend me just one more kiss,
Before we each other dismiss.

Your name.

Wears its own fame.

Starting with B.

I like how B blows out of my mouth.

Like a playful Boo!

child’s ambush from

a hidden corner

or

your surprise from behind,

hands eclipsing my eyes

and kiss in the neck,

wistful sighs.

R likes to roll on my tongue.

Wants to get out -

doesn’t want to get out.

Jumps, bounce of my teeth

and rolls like a train speeding its feet.

S likes to become shhhhh…

when I put my heavy, tired head on your

chest, nest.

All vowels and consonants

are disciplined solders, creating brigades of

syllables,

always ready to march,

when desire knocks on the door of my mouth.

Hurrying deep south.