it was on a beach
it was on a beach
we had been drinking rye
she was studying to be a doctor
and i was writing these damned poems
it was too late for sunset
and too cold to sit outside
the front seat of the car
was too uncomfortable
so we hopped over
and into the back
leaving all pretense with the steering wheel
and the gas pedal
she was wearing a summer dress
and i pulled it over her head
the bra stayed
but it unbuttoned from the front
she had large breasts with small nipples
and i sucked at them
while pulling down her panties
the entire process made easier
by her complete willingness
we were nonetheless a little like wrestlers
locked into holds beyond understanding
both waiting to be pinned
i remember getting down on the floor
so that i could kiss her cunt
she was tall and there were legs everywhere
and when i finally got my tongue on her
i was astonished
because she had a pointed clit
astonished but not deterred
i did my work there
and we continued
we could both hear the pounding surf
as though we were in a movie
and not simply fucking
she heard her music
and i heard mine
we were gentle with each other
as gentle as almost strangers get
and when it was over
(because it always ends)
we were mostly silent
whatever spell had been cast
slipped out the window
and then out to sea
i drove her to her bed
and then myself home to my own
i smelled of rye and cunt
and a little of the sea
i crawled in between the sheets
of the curtainless windows
morning was sneaking in from the east
Copyright © michael dennis
back to what we pass over in silence