Man -- in the Moon
I drink you in
your skin and muscled bones
advance attention every
second in my sight
your lips, not pursed but parsed
with pouted pleasure
just the sweetest
shade of pink
I think
then stop such cerebral-ic nonsense as
my pulse pounds louder than
bold breakers on sweet shores
we’ve yet to wander, toe to toe
beneath the stars and sheets
of long-lived years
re-cognition
chorded, kindled, and caressed
our best
is yet to come
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