boggled bologna

feeling her sleeve with your thumb
is how innocently it can begin
but as nature drives you
you don't have to say anything:
just slowly unbutton her pajama top
and let your fingers slide over her bra
the way leaves skate across streets;
not touching her skin is such a tease
is what's running through your head
as you're eyelevel with her waistline
when you're so close and so distant;
and as your warm, curious tongue
lightly roams over her underwear
she lets out a gasp
from across the laundry room
and you stuff her clothes
back into the dryer

written by a friend's friend, bobby
mm