Riff
As we cuddle,
we are cushioned
in a tenderness
that explodes
like the universe being born,
pressed like flowers
into a memory book of love,
soothing as warm chicken soup,
tantalizing as the sweet
fermented bite of a hot toddy
or a blues riff.

a dark cabaret/two men holding hands/hypnotized by the soft roar/ torch singer/bluesy/jazz-bended melody/sensuous swingin’ eighth notes/penetrating/ resonating/causing each to hold the other’s hand tighter

Cuddling melts into a kiss—
the chilled lava between our tongues
refreshing as a river of wine.

leaving the cabaret/torch singer’s anointed blues still roaring through their ears/through
their still-joined hands/they sauntered/
swaggered/
paraded/
down main street/like it was a church aisle/offered their love on the altar/ apostles/god herself/stood on/witness to this marriage/did not jeer these lovers who held hands to the tune of pink blues notes

Kissing softens to our naked extension—
we spill two kinds of tears
as we zenith.
We lie together/
chest to chest/
hands still joined/a jazz harmony/we dream/oh we dream/
as one man/we dream

got home late that night/or was it the next day’s dawn?/couldn’t tell ‘cause the moon was purple/flopped down on the bed/intoxicated/
steeped in candied bliss/cuddled/they were cushioned in a tenderness that exploded/
like the universe being born/pressed like flowers into a memory book of love/soothing as warm chicken soup/tantalizing as the sweet/fermented bite/of a hot toddy/or a blues riff

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