She knew it might as well have been her up there,

Crucified and pressed into by the depths of his push,

Pulled up and down at the gentle twist of his slow movements,

By the blind devotion he weaves with hands deft and wide.

He took it in with knowing eyes and endless vines in ruddy glass,

Milky mozzarella, sopressatta and white chunks of warm bread,

Each offered morsel bitten deep and then swallowed quick,

Each gulp an unknown step taken toward sensuality’s gain.

And that pull is undeniable in even the most pressing crowds,

When a dark-eyed stare can be felt forever on your heated skin,

When one lover is sure the other lover is not looking back,

Battles of unbidden desires staged and fought on passion’s edge.

Bad angels gather round him flapping their glittered wings,

Prickling at the mere thought of their inner chemistries,

Wrestling with facts in face of bittersweet realities,

Uncorked and poured out for all the world to see.