The wind sizzles
the decorator trees
reach past the second
floor windows
There are stars
There will be a moon
its light is on the wall
on the mural hanging
by framing wire

A white fan hisses
its voice..already its
putting me too sleep
but each intrusive puff
of wind of the west
knocks the closed
blinds against the
frame of Her window
drawing me up from
the well of reverie

"My tears washed my
work shirt" her
hand work the text
of her phone..shes handy
brilliant mind of sparks
Im about ready to turn
and go back to my
work..forget about
excuses for the laundry
"Com'ere..I need a massage
to soothe away my sadness"

oh here is the price! but
Im drawn into the the witty
words..Im a sucker for the good
one liners!

I searched on google later for
this and its original...
one eye open and one eye
closed...magic age skeptisicm!

"Fine!" but only for two hours
I got work too do! "I should be
getting forty bucks and hour for
this!!"

quickly she puts her phone on
the nightable and throws herself
facedown...arms at her side
stops..adjusts her pillow flattening
the pillow with her head..
sweeping her long brunette
hair off too one side...over the
pillow...the top of the expensive
matress the tresses run like
a river of black in this light..
it glistens a warm rich color

she sleeps in her clothes
old habits

an older woman taught me
this....that patience..
is not a sin....walked me
through the pressure points
musculature..ligaments..
ribs...bones...organs..
spine..hips...neck
this is hard work..

I work with just the moon
light...the blinds open just
a touch...the clouds are
rolling in like white mares
galloping....

it takes half an hour or more
to find the tempo...feel all
the stress and hoopla fall
away into an ease in her
beneath my slow busy hands
Dreamlands excursion
for those that ask
If one does not ask
One does not recieve

My arms ache...
my back is turned
sitting on the bed
No wonder the pros
have the elevated tables

what is the price of comfort
the gift of giving
at an hour and a half
the moon shines in on
us like tiger stripes
across us
the storm walks closer
across the hills
its voice heard..but soon
too be felt

its like a dream
misplaced

like a late night movie
of interest found
in a boring broadcast

when shes sleeping
I quietly leave
I want to watch the
storm
shake the cramps
from my arm

I light my smoke
the fuel in my nostrils
her perfume and
her hair conditioner
on my fingertips

its one of the most
beautiful storms
Ive seen

..