' ' ' ' ' 'The Height Of Passion Poem by Dónall Dempsey

I am too tall
for you to kiss

me directly on the lips

& so
(it goes)

I either(have to) bend down low
or you to stand on tippy toe

or pucker up on an escalator going down
you forever two steps above

or gather you
up in my arms

(& so, surprised
&so disarmed)

kiss you beyond the pt. of reason
(madness even)

until one
loses all sense of one’s senses
of...decorum.

The logical thing(it would seem)
for you to do

would be to carry
a soap box

(as Hyde Park orators do)

& everywhere
you go

& every time
a kiss springs to mind

(& you experience an urge
to translate thought into the actual doing of it)

why you just
step right up
& have a go.

But you(of course)
know that

you can’t fit even the smallest
neatest of soapbox

into a clutch
purse

& being cleverer(than most)
resolve to resolve it

with a passion & precision
that only you(& you alone)
can attain.

Drawing yourself up to
your full 5’ 2”

you simply push me(albeit gently)
- I such a pushover -

back onto a tempting bed
shagpile carpet or forest ferny floor

whereupon thus cut down
to size
(I gaze upon the wild imaginings of your eyes)

as you take
advantage(so to speak)
of our now equal positions

without the impositions
of our relative heights

& proceed to kiss me all night
just short of... perfect ecstasy.