Roadside Attraction

My kisses to you are punctuated
by our smoking of cigarettes,
in between the laughter and notes
there is something waiting to swallow us both.
We can feel it,
writhing just beneath the surface of our skins.
I trace it’s path with my fingertips,
slowly,
down your black clad legs
Somehow this road map is
defining our territories,
marking new discoveries as we go.
You were right,
you know,
it wouldn’t have counted if you had written
the directions,
some careful cordining of
my perception would have spoiled
the surprise in the sureness of our mouths as they meet
in this dim bedroom,
we would lose the nerves which steel us to our resolution
at an honest try
in
all this travel.