im a writer
mostly on the mirror
when you're not looking
i wait patiently
no longer soapy
but squeaky
until those curls are
being lathered and rinsed
until your eyes are pinched tight
thats when i
carefully remove myself
from the place where we two
spit on each other for fun
and while you rinse
i make absolutely sure
not to disturb
the ringlets that
give weightlessness to
our privacy
to the mat
and then forward
to the reflecting surface
to my canvas
glistening
it invites me
and i paint
single finger extended
i eek it out
it squeaks
prints against glass
this is my textual dead drop
an espionage of love
scrawled above my sink
only for you
hurriedly i escape
before you know
whats happened
before you know im not there

now you are
squeaky
and wet
and upset
that im not...
what the...
"live long and prosper"
?

waiting for you
clad in narry a single article
i hear you lament
until
a heavy sigh emits
from the tiled "bachelor room"
adjacent to mine
a half curse and
then a swoon
and then squeaks

you traipse in
naked
earthly hips swinging
fling open
and then shut
the edifice that marks the barrier
between the real
and the imaginary
you
force yourself into
the place between my eyes
and the place that knows

"brush your teeth again real quick"
you want me
but
who wants to smell
the cheapest whiskey
while you make love

obliging i shuffle off
hoping to please
my only muse
when i read
below mine

"make it so"

keeper.