his icy imagination

all i wanted was the heat
to leave me be
i shivered with the thought
of his hands holding
ice cubes
mixed with the sweat on my skin

it’s fucking hot outside
and fucking hot inside
seeing him work in the tiny space
serve people, his sparkling smile
the way we would brush up against each other
unavoidable in that tiny space

the moment we changed from
coworkers to lovers
was the moment he closed the windows
prepared the truck to leave
i was busy doing the same
but my body knew every moment
where his body was
and he leaned into me
from behind
to place an item in an above cubby
and kissed my neck
which was deliciously shocking
because he had an ice cube
in his mouth

a moan escaped me
and before i knew it
i pushed backward
with a naughty grind

we faced each other
and passionately kissed
sharing the coolness of ice
on the hot summer day
and all i could manage to say after
was “Kiss My Grits”
we shared a laugh

that was years ago
once we owned the truck
we painted it on the side
and every summer day
i burn for him to use
his icy imagination
after we have sold out
and closed up

mobile lunch truck with kiss my grits painted on the side

image title “Kiss My Grits” by Trish+Brian on wordpress.com

About Kary

I write many things, prose, poems, prose, flash fiction, and novels. I've always loved the free form poem, and practice it most often. Feedback welcome. View all posts by Kary

2 responses to “his icy imagination

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