Apparently reckless

I can make love to my hand
without scratching myself
Let’s kiss the cream we laid upon

The mere thought o you arrival makes me sigh
Fingers in frostbitten snow
The butter is melting
While I glow

Without strength apparently reckless pleasure as a dishcloth in your power
Weak
Sloppy
lost
Red cheeks
clammy hands
Gone
chaotic to a different world

Inevitably the mere thought of your arrival makes me sigh
I have to rescue my mind from drowning
I have to remind myself of me
The butter is melting
While I am lost

Without strength apparently reckless pleasure
As a dishcloth in your power

I am standing in front of you
Have failed to fasten my seatbelt
I have crashed into you
Or you into me
In a trance you have tickled sensually

I can make love to my hand
Without scratching myself
Let’s kiss the cream we laid upon
The butter is melting while I am gone.


1997