New Year's: Tandem Poetry

No offense to the Jim Dyar Band, but there was just one place I wanted to ring in the New Year.
Problem was, I didn't have an invite. Not early on New Year's Eve day. Until she commanded I come over.
In an Invite in 58; an invitation that contained exactly 58 words (the email was titled, "Don't know what the big deal is;" the deal was, the invite, really a piece of Fiction in 58, was gorgeous and my first response was to ask if I could post it).
Before I realized that it was an invite. The one I wanted.
("You had me laughing all day; no, you cannot post it, you're just supposed to come over and drink Champagne." What can I say? I'm dense.)

I brought over a bottle of Italian Champagne; she made Mexican tortilla soup. I brought a sushi tray for the teenagers (it was kind of a chaperon thing); she promised to set aside a peaceful sanctuary away from the three-ring circus.
She said she was feeling spontaneously mischievous.
I was intrigued, since I wanted to add more spontaneity to my life.

We made a list of 10 Things to do before midnight.
One was to write a poem together.
Tandem Poetry.
She said I could post it.

Midnight Walk
Fluid motion, lock-step cool,
thoughts worlds away, in time and space.
Fragments of past lives lived,
choreographed to glide and weave.
Arms intertwine, hands meet, fingers mingle,
attention pulled to the present, abandoning dreamlike trances.
Rough hands comb through silken hair,
shoulders whip around, pelvises crash.
Lips meet, part, tongues left to explore,
the moment at hand, breathless,
whispers, husky, rise to meet the moment.

1 comments:

mountain mama said...

Plainly and simply spoken; hot, hot hot. Happy New Year...