He’s coming to me…
Making arrangements-shifting situations around
As if sifting through a strainer
Trying to alleviate anything from getting to the
Intended end.
.
.
He knows that I am ready…
Ready and waiting patiently for whatever happens
As he prepares himself for me
To be receptive –
For I am the receiver of his utmost affection
And a bodily inspection
Is what I expect as soon as he enters the door.
.
.
Lying in lustful slumber…
I subconsciously meditate about his arrival
All the while knowingly anticipating
The primal pleasure
That has been promised since the beginning
When words were exchanged
In passing.
.
.
No more fantasizing
About whether the appendage is packaged
In proportionately approved
Dimensions…
For the measure that we meet
Will be greeted with magnificent molding.

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