silk vesuvius in the morning

headache,

kissing temples 

of paper mache,

we roll over 

to the glare 

that blinds our weary

eyes.

you bounce up,

late for whatever,

and i remember

the glorious night

before...

at least my version.

round brown

staring back at me

as you jerk

your shirt

and curse 

the worst

words

to come from 

a mouth

so sensual.

you don

your specs,

sit on the edge~

my hands 

find that spot

you showed me

and i

beg,

through 

the manipulation

of your will,

for the bell to sound.

hot lips 

on creamy brown

induces memories

of straddled faces

and 

one,two,three

paces

which made you call out 

for more.

the arch in your back

signals to me

and i lay you down 

gently.

i lick 

the double essence

of eternity

and you moan,

while pushing me

lower.

toes point north

and i feel 

the approach

of pompeii

once more.

the eruption

pulls me in 

as wetness flows

over egyptian 300

and you

smile.