Good morning, everyone! Sorry I’ve been MIA. It’s been a CRAZY week! To make up for my unexplained absence, I would like to share with you this experimental poem I wrote about smoking weed.
Ever notice how a Friday night can switch from being just another boring night watching reality TV on the couch to something . . . wild? I bet my Colorado people do. I hope you had fun with Mary last night! 😉
I had an affair with Mary last night,
and staring deep into my soul,
she told me secrets about myself I’d never discover alone
and made me feel freer than I did with any man.
She was that forbidden fruit
that continued to entice me with her illuminating color
and tease me with the sweet aroma of her breath
until I finally succumbed and floated into her hovering embrace.
She kissed me lightly at first,
barely grazing my lips.
The second time was more intense
as she blew her electric air deep into my throat,
sparking a small fire inside of me.
A blaze that grew brighter as it began to spread,
tickling all five of my senses
until it completely consumed me
and when the third time came around –
I kissed her.
There was something fulfilling in her caress.
I felt safe
enraptured in her arms
I could release and watch the world’s burdens
drift away, evaporating into the night’s sky.
It was a surreal experience,
sleeping with Mary.
How much I really remember, it’s hard to say.
She was gone too soon,
disappearing into the predawn darkness,
leaving me to wonder if she was ever there at all.
Maybe I imagined
her warm, succulent kisses,
the tingling sensation of her skin against mine,
the burning passion
we fell into as we rolled
into the wall, the counter, the floor,
never quite making it to the bed.
As I slowly emerge, still fluttering in the high
of our love making, I tell myself:
Next time, I will kiss her first.
*I actually wrote two versions of this poem. I’ll share the second one with you next Saturday (after another wild Friday night). You’ll be the judge on which is the better poem.