to slip excitement into the night

little bird

i can't help but think

and by think i mean lust

about the coolness of the night and

the conduction of your steamy narrows

i can't forget how the contortion of your elbows

removes your shirt and reveals your pink stabs

and if ever i was think about slipping into excitement

it would the excitement of your slender delight

of how a walk through the night to the shore

and slipping always from the street lamp into

the shadow of a lustful kiss

how the gentle slip of a finger

down the waist of your jeans

is the wolf call to the moon

in a moment

where eventually

slobber on my cheek

could belong to

you or me

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