Fantasies

Sisyphus

Fantasies come at the oddest moments--

and suddenly we meet in a dark forest,

my gypsy.

You smile and your eyes

call me to your lips with omens

of your wildness.

Our tongues caress and tantalize,

The wetness of your mouth is warm

as we fall to the forest floor

and the fire.

Other times, we’re in a bar, my whore,

sitting in a corner, dizzy with desire,

and you take me to your room upstairs.

In the dark, we’re stripped of everything

but hunger,

as we fall to your bed,

devoured.

Sometimes, we’re stranded on an island,

my woman, running down white beaches.

I chase you over dunes to the surf,

our bodies gleaming.

You fall to the sand and I’ve captured you.

You’re fighting me, your teeth on my shoulder,

your nails in my skin,

your body under me, squirming,

surrenders,

and we moan in blue water.

Almost every day--

while driving down a country road,

or planting carrots, or baking bread,

I think of you and want you to come,

my queen, to my bed,

to play in the night,

then lie here like now,

our breathing softer,

our legs touching,

your head on my shoulder,

here,

where you’ve entered my life,

sweet friend,

like a dream,

sharing our fantasies,

caring as much as we do

and knowing that just as they come,

fantasies end.