Fingers running through my hair this way then that way, combing style into mood and, touch into knowing deeper things about the other.
You and me together on warm tarpaper roof vibrating from huge neon sign, bodies covered in Fassbinder Red, laying together upon checkered picnic cloth, cold chicken eaten quickly from buckets then, turned over becoming Bohemian lovers bongos. Cold beer chasing away roofs late day sizzle, poems created to drumming rhythm neon cycles.
Fingers probing each others skin, you guiding my mouth between your legs with one hand while using the other to play a beat and, asking me to play you with my tongue, asking me to play notes on your keys, bop bop bop… pop pop pop…
Tarpaper roof covered with checkered picnic cloth and, you and me.