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“He Wonders”
He wonders,
What it’s like,
For her,
He wants nothing more,
Than to sit close,
To her.
Her body,
Resting lightly,
Against his,
As they sit,
On a metal bench.
The friction,
That’s created,
As she moves her leg,
Her jeans,
Smoothly sliding,
Against his,
As she changes,
Her sitting position,
And as this,
Is happening,
He notices,
The slight warmth,
Of her body,
As it is,
Transferred over to him.
He can’t think,
Of any place,
He’d rather be,
Then where he is,
Right now,
Sitting close to her.
He knows,
He likes her,
He hopes,
She likes him,
And if someone,
Had told him,
That her leaning,
To her left,
Pressing her shoulder,
And leg,
Up against his,
Could make him feel,
This euphoric,
As he’s feeling,
Right now,
He would have,
Laughed.
How can the,
Simple touch,
Of such common parts,
Create such a,
Magical bond,
He wonders.
He looks closely,
At her face,
As she looks down,
At her phone,
Is she feeling this?
How could it be,
Even remotely possible,
That only one of us,
Could be,
Feeling these rushes,
Of both pleasure,
And emotion.
She starts to lean,
Even more into him,
Sharing a picture,
Of her,
And a pudgy dog,
The love,
Of her life,
She tells him,
As the weight,
Of her body,
Increases against him,
He tries to contain,
His outward display,
Of this immense,
Pleasure,
That is as much,
Physical,
As it is,
Mystical,
Strobing through,
His body.
She leans back,
Towards her right,
Causing her whole body,
To pull away,
From him,
Just enough,
So that there is,
A moat of space,
Between both their bodies,
His leg exposed,
Feeling naked,
With the absents,
Of hers against it,
That euphoric feeling,
Suffers a drop,
In its intensity.
He looks back over,
At her,
Trying to gauge,
A change,
In her face,
Her body language,
But she’s still,
Just sitting there,
Giggling at pictures,
Of her and that,
Fat little dog,
No change at all,
In her outward appearance,
At least,
That he can see.
He starts to have,
Withdraws,
From the lack of,
Her soft touch,
He tries to subtly,
Lean into her,
But the gap,
Is too wide,
To accomplish this,
Without it being,
Obvious.
He thinks about,
Just reaching out,
And touching her,
Putting his arm,
Around her,
And pulling her,
Close.
Would she nuzzle,
Into his side?
Welcoming the closeness,
He initiated,
Or push him away,
And give back,
A look of,
Surprise and uneasiness,
Killing the moment,
And all the previous ones,
Too.
Way too much risk,
He thinks,
And decides to,
Compromise,
Dropping his keys,
And while leaning forward,
To pick them up,
He scoots,
A little closer to her.
She takes no notice,
Of it,
As she turns,
Towards him,
Laughing,
Trying to show him,
A picture of her dog,
In a dress,
But can’t keep her,
Hand still,
Because of the,
Child like laughter,
That is vibrating,
Through her.
Her body,
Pressed back-up,
Against his,
For support,
As she tries too,
Steady the picture,
On her phone,
For him to see,
But before he can,
Even breathe in,
Her phone rings,
“It’s Betty”,
She says,
“I Forgot”,
“I’m Late”,
As she pops off,
The bench,
They had been,
Sitting on.
“Catch You Later”
And as he,
Breaths out,
She is already,
Gone.
He sits alone,
Trying to figure out,
What just happened,
Drained of all emotion,
He sits there,
Looking out,
Over a parking lot,
The metal bench,
Looking rundown,
And uncomfortable,
And he smiles,
Knowing he would,
Have sat there,
Forever,
On that bench,
In front of,
A parking lot,
Just to be,
Next to her.
He lets those,
Precious moments,
Cascade over him,
Her leg,
Lightly touching,
Her soft scent,
The warmth,
Girlish laugh,
Even that fat,
Little dog,
All of those images,
Raining down,
Around him,
As he wonders,
Could she feel it?
Could she feel it,
Too?...
Tom Allen…06-18-2017…
He wonders,
What it’s like,
For her,
He wants nothing more,
Than to sit close,
To her.
Her body,
Resting lightly,
Against his,
As they sit,
On a metal bench.
The friction,
That’s created,
As she moves her leg,
Her jeans,
Smoothly sliding,
Against his,
As she changes,
Her sitting position,
And as this,
Is happening,
He notices,
The slight warmth,
Of her body,
As it is,
Transferred over to him.
He can’t think,
Of any place,
He’d rather be,
Then where he is,
Right now,
Sitting close to her.
He knows,
He likes her,
He hopes,
She likes him,
And if someone,
Had told him,
That her leaning,
To her left,
Pressing her shoulder,
And leg,
Up against his,
Could make him feel,
This euphoric,
As he’s feeling,
Right now,
He would have,
Laughed.
How can the,
Simple touch,
Of such common parts,
Create such a,
Magical bond,
He wonders.
He looks closely,
At her face,
As she looks down,
At her phone,
Is she feeling this?
How could it be,
Even remotely possible,
That only one of us,
Could be,
Feeling these rushes,
Of both pleasure,
And emotion.
She starts to lean,
Even more into him,
Sharing a picture,
Of her,
And a pudgy dog,
The love,
Of her life,
She tells him,
As the weight,
Of her body,
Increases against him,
He tries to contain,
His outward display,
Of this immense,
Pleasure,
That is as much,
Physical,
As it is,
Mystical,
Strobing through,
His body.
She leans back,
Towards her right,
Causing her whole body,
To pull away,
From him,
Just enough,
So that there is,
A moat of space,
Between both their bodies,
His leg exposed,
Feeling naked,
With the absents,
Of hers against it,
That euphoric feeling,
Suffers a drop,
In its intensity.
He looks back over,
At her,
Trying to gauge,
A change,
In her face,
Her body language,
But she’s still,
Just sitting there,
Giggling at pictures,
Of her and that,
Fat little dog,
No change at all,
In her outward appearance,
At least,
That he can see.
He starts to have,
Withdraws,
From the lack of,
Her soft touch,
He tries to subtly,
Lean into her,
But the gap,
Is too wide,
To accomplish this,
Without it being,
Obvious.
He thinks about,
Just reaching out,
And touching her,
Putting his arm,
Around her,
And pulling her,
Close.
Would she nuzzle,
Into his side?
Welcoming the closeness,
He initiated,
Or push him away,
And give back,
A look of,
Surprise and uneasiness,
Killing the moment,
And all the previous ones,
Too.
Way too much risk,
He thinks,
And decides to,
Compromise,
Dropping his keys,
And while leaning forward,
To pick them up,
He scoots,
A little closer to her.
She takes no notice,
Of it,
As she turns,
Towards him,
Laughing,
Trying to show him,
A picture of her dog,
In a dress,
But can’t keep her,
Hand still,
Because of the,
Child like laughter,
That is vibrating,
Through her.
Her body,
Pressed back-up,
Against his,
For support,
As she tries too,
Steady the picture,
On her phone,
For him to see,
But before he can,
Even breathe in,
Her phone rings,
“It’s Betty”,
She says,
“I Forgot”,
“I’m Late”,
As she pops off,
The bench,
They had been,
Sitting on.
“Catch You Later”
And as he,
Breaths out,
She is already,
Gone.
He sits alone,
Trying to figure out,
What just happened,
Drained of all emotion,
He sits there,
Looking out,
Over a parking lot,
The metal bench,
Looking rundown,
And uncomfortable,
And he smiles,
Knowing he would,
Have sat there,
Forever,
On that bench,
In front of,
A parking lot,
Just to be,
Next to her.
He lets those,
Precious moments,
Cascade over him,
Her leg,
Lightly touching,
Her soft scent,
The warmth,
Girlish laugh,
Even that fat,
Little dog,
All of those images,
Raining down,
Around him,
As he wonders,
Could she feel it?
Could she feel it,
Too?...
Tom Allen…06-18-2017…