Look here
I've caught your Roman fingers
Here,  in my stubby shell curves
These crooked hands of ours
Bent and tangled
Oh how you keep me pinned
Under your grazing thumbs

Listen now
To the sharpness of our breathing
Lulling our souls to sleep
My ears remembering all the lines in your smile
And you, all the freckles in my eyes
As the radio babbles on

Feel this
My heart beneath my ribs
Beating clumsily in my ears
Pale hands upon the curve of your neck
Soft lips, so close
Almost 30 degrees in California
There might as well be snow, right?

Taste it all
Soft bile on your tongue
Injured sarcasm from my lips
Heavy handed understandings so hard to grasp

But you needn't worry, my dearling
Though your senses scream again
No you needn't worry, darling
You were only passing through