In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Portraits

THE ATHLETE

woman gaze

How hard the muscle, so soft and smooth the skin, so incisively clever intuitive, you are an athlete full of force and grace of mind and body. We sports trivialize and compete at who is harder, meaner, louder, sexier, smarter, and slyer. You reign supreme in common sense and creativity, order and sensitivity. I am leftover hippy revamped for today’s technology, loose and logged in. I don’t recreate with mind altering substances but I can float on ideas and imagery all the same. My fantasy life is rich, redolent undulating waves of mossy strip mall cleavages and triangulating leers and jeers of the popcorn parade, food for shower O pops. You are all strategy and plays while I am the measured field gain, your traversing prints enmuddied in my thighs, my neck and belly. You embody my thoughts with love in the unconventionally traditional setting, new passion colors washing out, layering upon the old patterned prints. You are never-before and stability too etched in ether, anchored air. Come hold my hand in your powerfully gentle grip a little while longer, silken sweat gluing our palms sealed open.

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