The alarm sounds
The guard calls me over
Arms up, fingers probe me
His maleness disturbs me
He feels down
lets his fingers circle the stone
Explosives? detonator?
He frowns
I smile
I lift it out, the Cyprus Stone
Small, smooth, enigmatic
Tension fills the space between
Our eyes meet
He knows some secrets are best
Kept in silence
He waves me on
I pocket the stone again
The Ice Cream Girl
Every day is sundae...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
My dear, how odd you are.
Later you must tell me how this fills the 'autobiography' criteria.
A finer piece of Homoerotica I have yet to read.
Keep it up.
Post a Comment