dismissed the voice spoke from the darkness, sounding so much like yours that for a moment I was fooled into believing that you had morphed your secret silent self into another incarnation come to haunt me. i must be careful not to project your shadow onto this new voice, it wouldn't be right, it wouldn't be fair. he is not you, and how silly to think so, since we both know there is no you really - you are someone I clothed with thriftshop garments from my own longing. but i want to give this man his chance without prejudice - positive or negative - yet i am afraid. take yourself off, why don't you, and give me my swing at the pinyata of happiness (closing my eyes as the butterflywingedrainbowcolored beams shower me with love). cross-stitch (uncounted)          she had to force herself to                                           go away          and do something else          or risk being a fool so          obvious          she might as well have sported          cap & bells          his words made her thighs twitch          with remembered longing          nothing crude or inflammatory          just that rough elegant          directness          with no pretense          about not needing tenderness          she left and hid herself away          eyes closed lying perfectly          still          but with glowing deliquescent visions          l o o p i n g  (l o o p i n g  l o o p i n g  l o o p i n g  l o o p i n g)          behind her lids          his tongue          hot wet explorer tracing the shy folds          hidden in a jungle of abandoned lushness          that no adventurer had mapped          in an eternity          his cheeks slightlylightly scratching          the smooth pristinity of her unvisited curves          as he succored his own thirsts and          soaked his soul in secret scented glades          the sun a fireball refusing to set until he smiled          slicked with happiness          and thrust his tongue deep          into the waiting cavern of her mouth          and lowered himself trembling          onto the blazing sands now adorned          with an unexpected oasis          showing her the matching deprivation          of his own vast desert          and glued          dunes curving symmetrically against each other          across these unfamiliar continents          they rode the contrail of the comet          until her eyes snapped open          and she laughed          feeling foolish once again          though she was          as usual          alone           © 2001 Regina Coeli deWinter
	Silkie deWinter is a poet, essayist, singer/songwriter, photographer, (see her AnotherSun photos ) digital artist, Tarot card reader and website designer who lives, works and commits general mayhem in Middletown, CT.