the beat up radio

ride me like a hurricane
plays on the beat up radio
as the night time lamp
clicks on outside

tatami mat on the hard wood floor
doesn’t bother him as
they both undress and lay down
clothes land in a blurry heap
the heat making each move count

they passionately wrestle
deeply kiss, grope everything
taste everything
she finally wins, on top

they begin slowly
their rhythm already matched
kissing, caressing, carefully building
until neither can stand it
he grabs her hips
and she rides him

the hurricane claims them
at the same time
carries them to cloud nine
little deaths

About Kary

I write many things, prose, poems, flash fiction, short stories, novellas, and novels. Feedback welcome. View all posts by Kary

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