Your cultivation of my attention was swift, and somewhat impressive.Blinding,bad,better,bold,it was dangerous to dine with you. I hated to be your dinner date,because your hands would rule a Kingdom under the table,and I was a persecuted subject,tormented,tortured,toyed with,torrid. Struck by the sudden sweetness of your stare,I begin to wonder if I am in trouble,or if…

Like a sheet of ice at sea,I shattered,surrounded by your warm embrace,my sense, replaced by sentimental midsummer madness,in the middle of winter,waiting for your answer. You held me,like the ocean holds weathered ships,gentle but uncertain,your eyes, half closed as the clock struck twelve,and you leaned down,without a word,without warning,kissing your answer onto my fevered forehead.