Wet dreams

I jerked awake,  
out of something that might  
have been a nightmare  
but was most likely just another  
dream about you.  
 
It was that momentary  
‘fuck, I’m late to work’ terror.  
When I realized  
I didn’t have to work,  
I let out a deep breath,  
fell back against the crisp white sheets  
the back of one hand across my eyes,  
hoping you’d stay out of my head,  
so that I’d get back to sleep this year.  
 
So there I was,  
heart racing from the startle,  
body restless,  
listening to the ocean,  
which sounded like sin  
on the other side of the  
window.  
 
I kept tossing and turning  
and straining against  
the tortuous weights of  
my tiny little top  
my tiny little shorts,  
and fuck,  
I was awake,  
wide awake  
needful, and  
just  
fucking  
hungry for that empty space  
that shows up when you’re not around  
to be filled  
 
I made the mistake of rolling over  
and looking at the clock.  
 
You’d just told me you enjoy getting off at 3:30 in the morning.  
It was 3:30 in the morning.  
 
Just thinking  
you might be  
could be..  
set me the hell off,  
just the thought  
got  
me  
violently  
there  
 
So I crawled over my lover,  
who was relaxed in his innocent slumber,  
softly snoring,    
and before he had a chance  
to figure out if this was real  
or a damn good dream  
I decided to find out if I enjoy getting off  
at that time too.  
 
And with slow, anguishing hips,  
grinding close, getting deep,  
my palms flat on his chest,  
leaving hard and fast for other days,  
and later ways,  
my shorts still around my left ankle  
his still on his knees,  
I realized that 3:30 a.m. is  
indeed  
a brilliant time  
to get off.  
 
When it was done,  
I fell, exhausted on my back  
and was  
lulled into a  
an almost  
dreamless sleep,  
in which the feel of your  
breath on my neck  
didn’t haunt me.