Chewing Gum

She had a walk like a hyena in search of company, bad company do you know what I mean? Her breath like icicles on your tongue, Sweeter than a five – nil victory over Manchester, Every fibre united in perfect unison like some black velvet river or perhaps a Guinness, an angel’s kiss in every drop.

Her voice like a black snake moan, played on a custom les Paul in Heritage Cherry Sunburst, That’s one hell of a body. She speaks my name collect call from Anthemusa,

I am transfixed like the possum waiting for the kiss of the .22 fragment round. I am caught in her pull like the constant tug at the sea by the hand of the moon.

Her eyes watch every move I make like some Siamese cat, Teasing and terrifying the mouse, Before the inevitable pounce. In those eyes I see a fire like a magnesium flare, lighting the runway on some godforsaken atoll. Prepare for landing, “It’s gonna be rough”.

In her touch, like a breeze across the shore line, I absorb every pheromone like some slavering infant on the nipple. Like some raw recruit, I hang in the moment awaiting the order to stand at ease.

I photograph each ridge, every whorl, committing to memory every digit. To be recalled at some private moment alone, re-living each play, like some delinquent sports statistician.

She is the discovery of Atlantis, the recovery of titanic, the summit of K2. She is like the first breath and last breath, remarkable in its simplicity - magnificent in its complexity.

In her presence, I am like the summer rain puddle on the side walk, drying in the persistent sun. I am the chewing gum on the sole of your Chuck Taylor ‘All Star’ baseball shoe.

I am like one man on the planet of women, swimming in a vat of ‘Isle of Jura’ malt whiskey; awaiting the ice, a broken chunk of Antarctica that is travelling towards New Zealand.