PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Your powerfully erotic presence with me in the car reminded me that

I did not dream only the wished for transition---Starwatcher trampling

down the burdens of "Fairy Jerry."  "What are you doing," you asked, 

arriving; "Watching stars come out," I said, "starwatching."  We stared at 

each other.  I said, "That is it, isn't it?"  Burdens (from as far back as

February third, nineteen sixty-nine---first imposed by the Dorment Brothers,

Hindley and Rindley) palpably fell away when you replied, "Yes, I think it

is," the only necessary validation.  Now, at the drive-in theater, our nights'

pattern began to set:  you took off your shoes and tossed them to the back

floorboard, and the tattered cuffs of your baggy, distressed jeans nearly

concealed your midnight blue socks, but did not interfere with their very

erotic fragrance.  You also unbuttoned your shirt and untucked it, your

bare torso teasingly covered by your nearly waist-length black hair.

StarSpared