Vodka on Ice

Exhale long awaited and so in control of .....
All.

I read it.
It reads me right back.

Random music on
but
not
much
else.

His words speak heat.
He gives me language in degrees
that stick to my skin
like humid summer time beg for some relief soon Jesus please...

Vodka sweating.
She sweating thinking of he.
He sweating thinking of she.
We sweating thinking of we.

Scent of flowers on table has
no chance against scent of her
on table.
On floor.
On bed.
On he.
On
and on
and on
and on.

Music plays sounds
to moves that hips make.
Hips conducting tempo,
diminuendo and crescendo.
His down, delivering, deep
and the drums crash low.
Hers up towards, taking, taunting
as a violin screams.

The violin stops.
The screams do not.

Vodka on ice, sweats.