untitled

it was suspiscion that fueled the
doubt 
that fueled the insecurity
that forced the man to flee
and the woman to stay home.

when he realised it was just the force
of attraction'that compelled his hand 
and forced his words to take the shape of the
singers of the eighties whose orientation would
be suspect...
by the dulled masses. and speaking of a gathering
of the souls with thougts of clubland and their
stamped hands of belonging...

he looked deep, deep,
deeply in her eyes
and saw secrets
so shameful
as to put the blush on 
a pro, he could confide
and did confide
in someone that he only knew on a train
and then only so well. he recognized, in her,
that look that signifiied an open door and an invitation.

he would oblige by saying yes
(to her dress or whatever she wore). all he wanted
was a conversation with the skin - 
an unrehearsed dialogue with sympathetic
epidermis. the big browns could not lie that she too
was looking to escape.

©jim hill 06-27-2013