Ode to Strauss

Ode to Strauss

Running my fingers across this new territory,

Each pump in breath and forceful figaro of your figure,

I am lost in the breath of your mouth in my ear. 

My hips set and grind out your leading rhythm, 

each lingering note of time impregnating anticipation, 

the expectation of a dénouement worthy of 

this patient and adolescent foreplay. 

The tendrils of touches, left by your lips

along the valley of my waist - I wait face down

in the blankets as your sound and sweetness 

Fills me like dye in an hourglass of water. 

The mushroom clouds of chemical ecstasy that 

expand 

           and 

                 expand

           and 

                 swell

           and 

                 swell

Until they hang there, the universe's marvel for this

fleeting second of perfection that will soon

absorb back into reality

              

             Oh this! This is the dénouement I was looking for

when I lowered the needle into the groove of your vinyl. 

Your vinyl, oh Strauss.