Did I manifest you on that dark street
Your taste so delicious and aligned with everything I think sane
Or was it happenstance that happened to chance a meeting
That we would mutually benefit from.
Your hands in my hair like a line out of a pretenders song
All that was missing was the cadillac
Not that we would have noticed the make, or model
Or even the colour.
We were making our own
Hues and tones so rich and varied
Intoxication seemed secondary.
The moon played us a blue jazz number
Something so sultry the trees did their best to keep time.
That surreptitious smile you gave me in the backseat of a cab
The kiss in your eyes not yet on my lips
Fingers intertwined below the level of sight
A tactile whisper in the shadows.

It’s a familiar dance
That post-midnight mindset
A meandering garden path of earthly delight
Played at a tempo fast and slow at the same time
The perfect speed to make a metronome dizzy
But not the stars.
The magic of what could
Becomes what is
And what it is?
Is poetry.