Your arms
are soft and welcoming
like a worn armchair
that has lost its precious stuffing
I want to sleep there
like a cat
curled up
in an exact circle

Your chest
a comfortable cushion
made with real horsehair
could adorn a dreary sofa
the armchair in question perhaps
and there
i may want to play
hide and seek
but never count to ten

Your hands
express innermost thoughts
They write in curious Braille
especially coded for me
They could compose music
or paint dark images
of you and me
if you so desired
them to

Your legs
hard and unyielding
like steady pillars
Used by you to seek direction
to walk, or to have sex perhaps
The purpose matters not
They sculpt rather serious steps
with unusual force

Your testicles, your penis
seem at odds with each other
Yet like a piston
and a hydraulic lift
they jerk together
into consciousness
connected by invisible strings
They connect you to me

Your heart
beats fast and furious
and yet I have little sense
of the erratic quality of it
How it waxes and wanes
and swings to and fro
How it lies to you
when you need to know the truth

Your mind
is totally out of sorts
with that heart that beats
It untimely rules you
with twineless thoughts
It holds you hostage
to repetitive patterns
that consciousness denies

Your soul
is finally awakening
It is a gentle soul
rubbing bleary eyes
It looks around
Anticipates the landscape
then returns to sleep a while….

And you
are not the packhorse
nor a package carried
by your thoughts
Not the undiscovered one
nor the mere shadow
on an illegitimate wall
You are alive, REALLY alive

And I
will lie with you
In beds, in baths, in unknown hallways
Sometimes in your head
but always in your heart
We will always smell of sex
and each have hidden knowledge
of what makes the other tick
And when dreary clouds
Reform and clear
You will remember me