
He’s Your Man, & Her Baby Daddy
The Interlude..
In the shower reflecting on promises of a rendevouz I was slightly
disappointed.
I wanted the beach, the sand, the sheets.
But I was unsure if I actually wanted him. All that glitters is not gold
and he his light was dim.
Day turned to night twice over, and we were still at bay. Until we met
there coincidently there. Surrounded by warm salted luxury. Small
playful motions brought us neck deep in life. Though in the same exact
place, at the same exact time, our intentions were very different. One
to continue; the other, to cut to
.. the chase.
“You’re wet, a different type of wet.”
How much wetter can any one body be in the middle of the ocean? That’s a
different type wet. As if money was falling from the sky, he wanted my
clothing to fall and drift out to Cuba. & even with my Brazilian flare,
I wouldn’t let it. I couldn’t.
I didn’t really want to be bothered with his advances they were becoming
mundane. So, I salted his game- literally. My eyes were flush from the
sodium of the Atlantic. He believed he could guide me, pressing against
me to make sure I felt the rope that was tightening in his shorts.
Aside from the sand that was at the beach mentally, something was
beginning to flow through me that would prevent it.
Out of State, and into mine. After the master matrix, I was able to get
away unscathed. And with the ball in my court, I called timeout.

October 30th, 2009 - 11:14 am
[...] called Time Out, but was I [...]