Maybe
I’m mistaken
but I imagine kisses
like butterfly punches
and temples shaped
for alter songs.
This sigh you offer -
discreet and glancing.
A shape you’ve burned,
an arc to be admired.
Maybe, just maybe
I am the one
who does not
steal.
Let’s get drunk
and **** like monkeys!
Let’s roll around awhile
and wail like midnight dogs
intoxicated by our own smell.
Let’s be the untied beasts
of strange instinct within -
boundless and carnal,
without culture or regard
for nothing less than our release.
And after, we can lie together
and sniggle like embarrassed mice,
laughing at how very silly
all the other animals
have been.
She smiled, like a cello on its side,
and I bowed my finger cross the wires.
A nervous student, without notes,
without manuscript or lines -
I felt brutish and naive.
But then she sighed,
and all symphonies
combined.