Her breasts bounce
in step with each
step on the step
master they bounce,
Like over-filled
water balloons
on a string, they
bounce.
Sweat drips slowly
between her crevasse
We lick our lips
like on a hot summer
day, standing before
a merchant’s stall
of freshly cut water
melons, full of thirst
She steps.
Process notes: I was looking for inspiration this morning. I saw the word desire and thought why not write a series of poems about our base emotions. Leaning back in my chair, I started to day dream about desire and immediately I thought about the lady I saw in the gym the other day working out on the cross trainer. She was wearing a very low-cut white tank top that concealed very little. Now I would be less than truthful if I said I didn’t steal a peak like every other guy that was there at the time.