L5,2212 Poem by RIC BASTASA

after a while, he is convinced
that the other playful one has,

experience, the softness of the
hands, the smoothness of lips,

the way the dance steps are
done by the tongue, one can

see how skilled can experience be
and so there is no need for words

on how to do love, how whispers
sweetly accomplish the need, the

luxury of simply having to wait,
to close one's eyes, to be carried

to the clouds, to dwell in the heavens
for a moment, without wasting

an eyelash, or any sign, how intimate
can loneliness be with the experience

of another loneliness, jibing fitting in,

ecstasy to ecstasy
fantasy to fantasy, and

then when it is over, you sigh,
you always know what you long for,

there is going to be another dance of
the tongues, the thrill of the lips,

on same place, same hour
with the same kindness of the same

person, the one who understands
you even without having the need

to know you, even without having
a name, or the background, the curtain

the need for floors, the demand for
ceilings, the closes of breaths, the need

for air, the size of nipples, the tenor of
the song, the lyrics of the same....