I love his little bursts
of excitement
the sound of delight
resonating
in the back of his
throat

the languor of love
that lingers
on his tongue
like a slow-spun record
on a hot humid
day
when all there is to do
is just
dance without
clothing
& listen without
loathing

'cause
for hate we've not any
vacancy
in our third-story
palace of
peace