Fire and Brimstone

It was that one night of sweet November
Under the drizzle on that two-way street,
Parked with cars and nocturnal boozers;
And surrounded by blinded friends.
Drunk under the domination of your presence,
Thrilled by the static that we created;
And by the warmth and coldness of your rind.
As I mock with this arid and ashen lips,
As you smile and mirth with a taunt
Maw of humor thirsts for graze and touch.
Drunken mentality and missing thoughts
Your bemused stare and hypnotic grasp,
My hardened heart and pessimistic mind
Turned into frail focal point and sanguine mind
My arid and ashen maw of humor,
Gave in to your spellbinding entreat.

It was that one night of summer’s May
Under the end of the lengthy Scotch mist.
Privately somewhere around town
Two-way streets and a few intersections;
Emptied with cars and quiescent dwellers.
Besieged by the reality of your presence,
Elated by the touch of your hand on mine.
Silence filled this maw of humor;
Thoughts of imagination vanished swiftly.
My sensible mindset and tranquil state of mind
Your delicate voice and perplexed stare
Attempted to read this non sense silence of mine
Under the coldness of the night breeze
Words you speak I cannot hear but I understand
With your warm touch and eyes that I love to gaze
I gave in to your spellbinding intrepid act.

Two nights, under the fine rain
Along the two-way streets of the city
Drunk and thrilled; besieged and elated
By the presence of two beings
One night of sweet November
One night of summer’s May
A spellbinding entreat and intrepid act
A haunting memories that I, alone can haunt

6/19/2007