i love the smell of men
it can’t be explained,there
are so many varieties of
smells….
sweaty smells
musky smells
sexy colognish smells
clean soap smells
tobacco smells
smells found on women too but
there’s always the slightly imperceptable
difference, an awareness
that i’m near a
man, yes, and i so love
men
~
i sit next to a stranger in a darkened
theatre, his scent in my nose, his
arm oh so close and i am
very
much
aware.
i wonder if he is,
i feel my face
flush and my
body tingles thinking
of what could be….
a slight shift of
my body as i cross my legs and
smooth my skirt over my thighs
just the barest of hints but
he turns slightly and looks, sighs
the possibility could be
a reality
the idle thought, an action
then…
the lights come up
a smile of eyes and
lips exchanged, a wistful,
regrettable smile
then
the moment passes and
we are only strangers,
after all
One Comment
I’m procrastinating with my work — couldn’t resist the temptation to return to your poetry.
This one is AWESOME. Part of the reason I like it is because of your reference to the scent of men — singularly erotic. What I particularly love though is how you pinned down that moment when, just for a fraction of a second — however mundane the encounter — there’s often that thought of the *possibility* of sex, and not even that you expect it, or even sometimes want it. But it’s part of the human reality; we are animals, and we’re always sizing one another up as potential sexual partners.
I’ve wondered how many other people actually see the world this way. And you’ve confirmed my suspicions. Better yet, you are bold enough to expose us all.