[poetry] Afternoon Clarity

[JetPlane]

You opened the mailbox
and the letters slipped
out stealthily,
groveled about your feet,
forgiven of your sins.
You slouched and your
keyed-up slacks stretched
across your backside,
gray and worn-out,
the tweed fading on
the edges,
your mustache masculine
in its effort,
but feminine in its
coldness.

You kiss with your eyes
tight shut,
your hands less intimate.
more probing than your
tongue. Shifty as always,
but smooth along the edges,
the hazy smoke of the room
silhouettes the curve of your
breasts, they move slowly
forward as you bend over
to remove your $3 a pack
pair of white,
lined top socks.

You smile and ask me how
I slept while stroking
the side of my face.
Feels like love except
for the detached way
you watch my mouth,
as if watching a machine
grind out a nut,
cold perfunctory
unsensual. I lick
my lips and you watch
my tongue pass over
the bumped red curves,
but it's the color
you wonder about,
how it fits along
the color wheel,
and when we make love,
rocking softly,
kissing your shoulders
and tracing the lines
of sweat with my eyes,

I feel you watching
the color of my skin
shift in the light
streaming uncertainly
through the half-open curtains
and I wonder whether my body
works as rhythmically as
you'd like it to,
and which primary color
you think my eyes are
when I look at you and
you smile.