that time of night

it's that time of night I know
when bastard time zones intervene
and writing email back and forth
comes too soon to its fated daily end
as for some unfathomable reason it
is so much later there than here
as though we were in different
dimensions when I know clearly from
your words that we are not and if I
write another note or two I know I
really should be circumspect because
you'll read it in the morning light
after brushing your teeth dressing
for work putting on a face to
face the world that knows you in ways
that I do not though I would not
trade the ways I know for you in
the stockings and heels you look so
very special in and so I know that
serious person that business woman
is the one I should write this to as
I sit here by the monitor light

but all I can think of is how much
I want you on the bed face down
me between your legs from behind
biting your cheeks and licking around
where no tongue is really ever
supposed to go and everywhere else
as well running my hands all underneath
and pushing my tongue up inside so far
until you bite the pillow beat against
the wall or the headboard or the
mattress and everything has turned
the brightest pink though the
candles have guttered down and I'm
holding you so tight you cannot get
away and there is really nothing you
can do and I just will not will
not stop


© 1999 by
michael mcneilley