Friday, April 21, 2006

First Impressions

I met a cool cat last night.
You know the sort
mean and moody.
Hooded eyes
Two days growth.
Wearing a black leather jacket.
Smoking,
and drinking scotch on the rocks.
The sort girls always give a second look.
The sort on a hot tin roof.
( Or in this case down the local.
listening to Dave play the blues.)
He leaned over, all meaningful,
and asked if I was a lady?
I replied yes last time I looked,
but was he a gentleman?
He ordered another scotch,
and asked what I thought he was?
'A cool Cat', my response.
Still cool, when he told me he lived in Belgium.
Still cool, when talking about the bands he'd seen there.
Warmer, when telling me he was over here for the summer,
visiting his mum.
I lost interest when he told me he was a golf coach.
Cool cats I dig,
but swingers?
No way man,
A lady has to have some principles!

Monday, April 03, 2006

MOMENTS

There are moments in your life
when you know something is going to happen
no matter what you say or do.
The inevitable.
No escape.
So it was the first time I caught your eye.
We smiled.
Nodded.
Each acknowledging our own sexuality.
Others around were oblivious
to the dance we had started.
So it started.
We did the waltz,
the tango,
and, in a fully crowded room,
the quickstep.
The hand on the back
lingered just a little too long
as we talked.
Bodies pressed just a little too close
as we passed by each other.
Eyes locked for more than the 10 second rule.
Neither one wanted to take the lead.
Each taking turns.
Then temptation could not be resisted.
Our escape was barred.
Texts followed.
Invitations were made.
So,
three weeks after our first lesson,
i find myself
in the early hours
outside your door.
Few words were spoken.
(Our mouths were on each other)
Exploring.
Wanting.
Needing.
Thirsty for yet more knowledge.
Your moves were more practiced than mine.
I was a willing pupil however.
As we moved to the bedroom,
our costumes were discarded,
our masks removed.
We were in the moment.
The here and now.
No tomorrow.
No yesteryears.
We stood in awe of our own nakedness,
each looking at a reflection of our own body.
Tender.
Gentle.
So soft.
Our last dance to be learnt.
The horizontal rumba.