Musings by The Poet Loriet
Smoke Signals
When I'm in a restaurant,
I'm the girl who will
go to extremes,
move across the room
to avoid sitting near a smoker,
but then I met you.
I hate cigarettes and said
I would never date a smoker...
So why am I sitting
behind the wheel of my van
in the parking lot
of Carlos O'Kelly's
twirling my long smoky hair
underneath my nose and remembering
how you gave me teasing looks behind
the veil of smoke that thinly divided us.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply...
tequila, lime, salsa, smoke,
all reminiscent of our afternoon delight,
but the scent that lingers and
makes me restless to be in your arms again
is the one of your cologne that
clings to my black velvet jacket.
Every time I get a whiff of the
heady, musky scent that is you,
it takes my breath away and I
can almost feel your
smoky lips on mine.
I remember how your tongue
flicked across the rim of your margarita glass
and gave me a burning desire to become salt
and melt in your mouth.
I want to become a tart little garnish
that performs a private dance
on the smoke of your tongue.
Please inhale me.
I want to become your new addiction.
Lori Beal
I'm the girl who will
go to extremes,
move across the room
to avoid sitting near a smoker,
but then I met you.
I hate cigarettes and said
I would never date a smoker...
So why am I sitting
behind the wheel of my van
in the parking lot
of Carlos O'Kelly's
twirling my long smoky hair
underneath my nose and remembering
how you gave me teasing looks behind
the veil of smoke that thinly divided us.
I close my eyes and inhale deeply...
tequila, lime, salsa, smoke,
all reminiscent of our afternoon delight,
but the scent that lingers and
makes me restless to be in your arms again
is the one of your cologne that
clings to my black velvet jacket.
Every time I get a whiff of the
heady, musky scent that is you,
it takes my breath away and I
can almost feel your
smoky lips on mine.
I remember how your tongue
flicked across the rim of your margarita glass
and gave me a burning desire to become salt
and melt in your mouth.
I want to become a tart little garnish
that performs a private dance
on the smoke of your tongue.
Please inhale me.
I want to become your new addiction.
Lori Beal
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Smoke Signals
Smoke Signals
