Indecent

*disclaimer, this was written many, many years ago*


i felt it.
the tickling twinge, perhaps it was the cool breeze chilling the lifeless pins holding my dress together as they brush against my stomach,

i wish we were alone.

walking i can smell the fresh scent your soap leaves behind. prior to lighting this cigarette the living room carried the same pungency. i like it, this feeling of tension your presence ushers. do you feel it too? you must.

i saw your eyes, thought you could read my thoughts through the singing, and the music-my mind, frantic, forcing the body to flee, and yet, i returned. that is when i saw your eyes. the subtle smile that acknowledges _______. i may have had on the coy face, and unconscious reaction-immediate and making the moment even more surreal.

i fled in search of a bottle-hoping you'd follow-and stay put. like a shadow i descended trying to disappear so that no attention was required from either party. in the kitchen i wondered what your lips were like and grabbed the ice afraid to turn around.

its not the first time i wondered...
on the beach i noticed a few neglected spots around your mouth, the morning shave with tired eyes, unfinished. they look softandinviting, fullofwonder, fruityanddelicious, far too tempting. we are not alone, and i have no shoes on.

i fled to the turgid sea.
just to my ankles.

the cool water will wash it all away. then came the wave.
with the bottom of my dress drenched i gathered the skirt in hand. i am free terrain for the waters pleasure as my eyes search the near and far along the horizon. they move past the fishermen, pausing for a moment to contemplate the man with one leg or two.  they move on, feet anchored in the sand suddenly aware of the power i hold in this enticing yet strong stance. i rest my straining peepers far in the distance. a fishing boat rising and setting. the water, a smooth ripple reflecting the sun, much calmer than my racing.

anything but you.

i know you are watching me. there is heat on the back of my neck. i was always so aware of what was going on behind me that often i am struck blind when things are so close. this is probably why i gaze so often off into the distance- either to foresee or look completely past what has arrived. -yet as an expert concerning what lies behind- i know the look, and now the heat causes all the cells in my being to stand at attention.

is it obvious i know you are looking?

are you trying to be discreet with your glances? there is a chance your companion will notice.

i think for a moment i can read your mind. if we were alone you would free your feet and join me at the precipice of land and sea while trying to maintain personal space. we'd stand in silence sinking in the sand. an attempted step towards freedom from our sand trap would be the catalyst. an accidental touch tense flesh without words. arms on hips. warm breath on necks. rapid heartbeats massaging and drawinguscloser. attempting to decipher a language with a mute translator. i am not opposed to this.

i could just be projecting my desire and justifying it by thinking i can read your mind.

we are not alone.
i must get away from the water.
do not look, not even during idle chatter.
focus on the pier.
anything.
where are my shoes?
five feet to the right.

my toes dance nervously in the sand, again i think you are looking at me and ten looking down. i wonder if you are aroused and making sure it does not show. i want to tell you its the wind but say nothing. the damp skirt of my dress flutters around my legs demanding movement. the grains of sand embedded in the fabric sting with each gust and i am penitent once again. i walk away as if to be searching for something, still forsaking the shoes and settling instead on two incomplete sand dollars.

you are walking ahead now,
i must get my shoes.

i could almost feel it passing, my desire for you, as i sat on the boards. and then as you cleaned my feet it snapped back with such force. i feared i jumped as you looked up and said you would write to and for me. i could not respond, knowing that if it were only once i would scour it for nuances. i would keep it secret, would you? chances are nothing will come of it.

we are not alone.

i wonder what your arms feel like, your fingers move effortlessly from fret to fret, elbows relaxed. i wonder if you could hold me the same way. i wrote you a haiku and my address on the back of a sand dollar. to get from me to you must be unseen or amusing so as to not draw attention. perhaps a flip into your case like a tip for your serenade like loose change. i jingle it in my fingers. i think you see it and know that i am uncomfortable (what you don't know is that i enjoy it) then there was the look and the afore mentioned retreat.

we were alone for a moment.
i fumbled while maintaining eye contact and handed you the sand dollar trying not to make contact with any part of you (i really wanted to hold your hand). you look happy as you gently place it in your pocket, as if to keep it secret to keep me safe. i want to touch your face and learn the contours of your face in darkness. safe.

you won't return for a while. we all line up for a farewell embrace and wishes for safe travels and see you soons. its your turn now. i know as you step forward you will kiss my cheek. there is no fear in your advance.
the embrace
and cheek meets lips
then squeeze.
my lower lip grazes your earlobe, soft and warm.
so innocent and uninterrupted by the brief sigh that exposes your sensitivity to touch even in the thickness of tension. "intimacy does not depend on physical contact" was your reply as you held on for just a bit longer.

i knew there was more you wanted to say before they came for you.
i also know what you say is true.
i wish we had been alone.