Devils Triangle
for C.C.

rather than textures of clothes she was wearing
it was as if it was herself I was staring at

and not just staring at, but up against
up against whatever animal she was as well

wolf or bear or beaver or otter
I enjoyed her textures, her fur

what was her sweater, fitting her, made of
of what was her pants made

found myself observing her closely
together long enough to ponder her

long enough for eye caress,
for eyes to rest upon her, weigh her, wear her

urge at one point to remove a speck
some other material, white and out of place
upon the front of her pants

what would she have thought
had I attempted to remove it

used to, in theatre classes, accessing, touching
fellow acting students, any and everywhere

this speck of material, white and out of place
was conveniently within the triangle

just above where her thighs join her body
it is where hair is or where hair was, pubic patch

we had been in conversation for over an hour
not old enough- not good enough friends
to risk breaking up

before knowing her well enough to know
how close I could get
without getting my hand spanked, my face slapped

I wanted to, up against her, pray
bury my face in the textures she was covered with
covered in

wanted her to weep against or laugh against

appreciative of her supportive remarks,
I did plant one kiss upon her brown sweater sleeve
where her left arm joined her left shoulder

was it a romantic gesture or an expression of what

how did she take it, I wonder
where did you put what I gave
or was it something I took, like liberty

where did she put my gaze
did she feel the weight of my eyes upon her

could she feel my desire


© Obediah Michael Smith, 2009
5:17 a.m. 04.12.09