The Visit

There are no pictures to prove it, and I doubt anyone would attest to the fact, but it still seems worth saying, I was there. Some kind of pride, straightening of back, as if I am better for it, stronger or smarter, just a bit sexier, I was there. And what does the tightening of the neck mean, the tensing of the muscles, when I can still reach past my toes, but with a greater sigh, a slower grace. When Tuesday looks like Wednesday, feels like Thursday and my inner ear breaks down with a low hum replacing all other sound. When the electrical storm of an orgasm seems strong enough to be magic, and I’m unsure of how to use it, but I’ve got a few ideas.

Crippled in the dark, a sigh, roll over and wonder if you know, I was there.