Midnight Brooklyn

Ebony,

Your architectural legs

Wrapped around my waist

Lights scattering in the room

The rumble is heard

Announcements made

It’s time to go

Ride on my back

Exclaimed, he did

Just feeling a bit,

Like going down on you -

It was something you said

Somehow you made me curl

And then he spoke

Then with the beat of a different drum

It was the three of us

In the meadow alone

No longer of heights

He mailed the signed letter

And together

Three of us made love

Without you there.

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.03.17.03:28:40@296NYC