Michael H

“May I crack your back?”

You had me at crack.
Feelings: hypnotic.
And homoerotic.
Wrap yourself around me
And I’ll gasp and whimper.
Joint fluids are freed.
Now more the limber!
I can’t help myself.
I feel dumb and startled.
Your hands massage upon me.
I loudly hum and gargle.
Later, I’ll try your scotch.
Two fingers? How about three?
We’ll play harp and guitar.
As I hear you close to me.
We may not be jedis.
But, you’re an archangel, Mike.
I’m a saint, and I can see
your wingless, flightless, fight.

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