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passion's harlot



some stories begin at the end.
the end of a sweet & lowdown sexual encounter.
it was good. we both got our piece of the rainbow
from it; skyrockets & dirty words. then a lazy drift
on euphoric sails.

but for me the afterglow burns out quick. sure, Iím
there, close to her heat, sheís got her hand on my
thigh. but Iím gone, Iím doiní the gypsy walk, broke
& hungry, in another desolate somewhere. she can
tell by the thousand-yard stare on my face. so she
stays quiet.

& she tallies her meager blessings. she got to cash
in stolen minutes under the smooth rhythm of a
crow-eyed lover. that puts her a notch ahead of
other lonely womenÖ

we are castaways, she & I, with no desire to run
from this dark & sullen place; we reason that this
is where God meant to put us. here, where love is
a stranger.

long ago, I learned that love is a lion, love is big game.
& I donít have the guts or the guns to enlist in that
perditious safari. I chase the smallest dreams.

so I stow my bag in her closet. I will toss my hat among
the brooding candles on her vanity. & I will spend the
rainy night in her bed. but I figure that donít make me
a hero. because I know what I am.

& I know what she isÖ



JohnFeddeler
Written by JohnFeddeler
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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