Béseme

Subject: Béseme

Date: Sunday 12/25/05 1:37:00 AM

Tags: writings: poetry, writings: vignette

Béseme

Columbia

I see you across the street, looking to me as you quickly turn away, lion like your hair falling in front of your eyes/the front of your shirt unbuttoned revealing your abs/the band of your boxers and I follow the trail down the center of your stomach to check out the rest of the man that I see before me/this summer heat about to give way as the clouds gather in the night time sky/the Latin quarter his black leather belt outlining him/so tempting crowning the tight jeans which lead to black boots as this man begins to move/walking like he’s preparing for war/a predator stalking his prey as he moves across the cobblestone street/this block party comprised of dangerous men with dangerous guns and dangerous drugs/the kind that come from within/that four letter word for which men have sewn their heart on their sleeve:raised the flag:died: Love.

And as he approaches me, pressing me with a knee as he leans in against the wall from which I was using as support with two skillful fingers he unbuttons the top of my shirt/as he looks bends down to whisper in my I ear as his stubble runs across my face like a whisper but it vibrates through my head “Béseme” as he grabs my hair from behind and we collide while the rain begins to fall the steam rising from the street/his clothes clinging so perfectly/his white shirt so revealing

As my shoulders work back and forth and we move towards where the rain is pouring down harder/a brief reprieve from the summers heat/alcohol pumping through our veins/a corona in his hand which he hangs over my shoulder as the other explores me/for a rough man he moves so gently and again he whispers in my ear “Béseme”

Our shirts coming off now/the colt tucked in the back of his jeans but finding home within his back. His hands holding my face and suddenly I find that we’re breathing for:through each other and before I know it I’m being carried up four flights of stairs as we enter his apartment/he kicks open the wooden door and he throws me down onto the bed/next to me a carafe of water and some old stone glasses and I hear him again whisper to me as he straddles me and leans in “Béseme.”