petites bêtises

I have a poetry crush
and it takes the form of your hands
washing my mind
of the past
dancing to african sounds,
a place I dream of going
as your perfumed presence walks out my door.
I have a poetry crush
and it takes the form of your body
swimming over my soul
like the vibrating orgasm on a guitar.
Sitting on my bed alone
with a grain of sand in my hand
not wanting to fall asleep
but staying awake
to the sounds
of what to come.