Having nothing in my garage to make a shining perfect woman, I went for the dream one waiting in the pool, by night, and yes, why not?...I was there too...

Concupiscence of the voyeur and the lover,
water touching the most intimate of her spots
as the ripples burn within strands of red hair,
white skin freckled by kisses of erotic love
of a nymph not from Circe’s island of Aeaea,
she will not her man into a swain transform.

In the shadows, waiting are the lovers wannabes,
they aren’t Argonauts or heroes of Troyan Wars,
but just passing sailors with no wax plugging ears
to fend a seductress bathing in her wet boudoir
that would devour the naďve approaching her web
since to one man and only one man she will belong.

I am in the water, she can’t see me, but knows I am,
the waves around us have started to boil white hot
tingling on bare skin like thousand searching fingers
as every drop is caught by a fire that will not drown,
then, suddenly she jumps like a languorous siren that
“surrenders”, like the spider to the beguiled drone.

Desire, so much water and yet the mouth is dry,
man is twisted until he’s a snake with probing tongue
provoking an ecstasy tsunami in all her senses
until a new Aphrodite from the foam again is born,
or like Leda she will recline on the warmth waves
and let Zeus swan to come to her making love.

Sizzling water, burning water, wet boudoir of hers,
seven misty veils peeled one by one by a demigod
which haven’t yet drank from the secret chalice
where everything is and not touched by man before,
not in that divine way that make two lovers blend
in a liquid explosion of lava until there is no more…