Under the coldest, clearest canopy of crystal starsI paced, waiting.
The glow of headlights over the hill.
Her car rattles and clanks to a stop.
Grinning ear to ear I gather her into my eager arms.
Kisses begin —
like a sigh of relief.
We walk, holding hands and smiling
into the ancient log and stone cabin.
Fire crackling.
More kisses.
Pizza shared. Wine poured.
We sit on the leather sofa synchronizing our attraction,
her favorite album pumping from my phone.
More kisses.
“I’ve missed you!”
She clears her headspace voicing concerns about an evening away from her obligations. We talk about it and her anxiety slowly melts away.
She is present.
“When you smile, your entire face smiles.”
Her lips. Fuck. Her lips.
I remember her memory of our last meeting.
I turn her away from me and move her hair. I surround her in my strong embrace and kiss her neck, cupping her breasts.
I feel her relax.
In the brokenness of my decades of rejection I expect rejection from her —
but instead I receive the sweetest sounds and softest caresses.