Sit Here Beside Me

Sit Here Beside Me

You've been off
dealing
with a multiplicity
of nuanced things
today,

and I can tell
by the way
you've blown
the hair
out of your face
and it gets caught
on your lip gloss
and tangles
in your mouth
so that
you have to yank it
to the side
while exasperatingly exhaling
that
you're just down
to as much
as you can take,

and the final straw
was passed by
an hour ago
in stop
and go traffic.

Your hips
heap
in the chair
and something
fumbles
to the floor
as you mumble,
"Really?
Seriously?"
not too much
under your breath.

That glassy eyed
crimson flush
flashes
across your face
and that
final threshhold
simply cascades
into your lap
as your palms
find their way up
and into
an imagined cloud
above.

I sit
in silence.

"Come over here,"
I tap on my hip,
and reach down
for the leash
and collar
from the basket
under the coffee table.

You lean in
with bent sighs,
and the collar
goes on.

You strip down
to pure naked energy,
and shut your eyes
as the leash
is attached.

You poise your knees
at the base
of my chair,
lay your head
in my lap,
and as I find
a nature show
on tv
about the secrets
of the desert
at the top
of the Andes,
you shut your eyes,
and I stroke your hair.

And then
you can stand
to sit
on the floor
beside me.