Weekend Love (Poetry)

Weekend Love (Poetry)

A Friday under the stars, looking into your 
Kind brown eyes and caressing the smooth skin 
Of your face, seeing the billions of stars reflected 
In your smile and the luminous nature of your soul. 
The warmth of your hand against mine as a comet  
Flies by. Our cellphones are off, the grass is plush 
Under our backs and our hearts beat as one. You point at 
A star and you name it Toby for some strange reason, rather 
Than ask why (as if I could ever understand why you did  
Anything), I simply nod and play along. You lose track of 
“Toby” in five seconds but you don’t care, and for the rest of 
The night we lay in silence, basking under the stars. 
A Saturday atop a hill, under a tree, studying for our finals 
Exams like a couple of dweebs. I suppose we are, given we’re the  
Top students by a mile in all our classes, but, all the same, we still 
Study. You bite the back of your pencil whenever you have trouble 
Solving a problem (and don’t want any help). I lean my head
Against the tree and look into the leaves where rays of sunlight 
Wink through, I feel a pleasant heat on my neck as it crawls up my  
Skin and I look, only to find you gazing at me 
With a predatory look, a look of arousal, If I didn’t 
Know any better. I know what you’re thinking, and I assume
You know what I’m thinking as well (the bulge in my pants makes 
It painfully obvious, if not a but embarrassing). The books fall to  
The ground as you lunge forward and plant the sweetest kiss onto 
My lips, the ecstasy rushes to my brains and dopamine floods  
Through like a tsunami. Before I know it, we’ve made love under  
A sycamore tree atop a hill like teens in the fifty’s movies. 
A Sunday alone in my bedroom talking to you on the phone, an 
Endless loop of perfunctory conversation but nonetheless I  
Couldn’t think of anything else better to do with my time. All the  
Homework is done and the exams are as good as aced in my mind. 
You still want to get some studying done but don’t because you’re 
Talking to me, I tell you not to let me distract you, but you don’t 
Me to hang up. I don’t want to hang up either. The air in my room  
Is hot and stuffy and that bulge returns in my pants, I ignore it and 
Suppress the urge to go to my computer and empty the load as  
To you is more important. I go to the window and open it, a fresh 
And invigorating breeze washes over my face and I feel refreshed. 
I stand by the window and look out at your house next door. We’re 
Not kids. We live on our own and could easily just visit each other 
But that would spoil the fun, wouldn’t it? Yes, probably so. 
I position myself not to look like a creep, but I find that’s just short 
Of impossible because any guy looking at a girl form a window is  
A Creep whether he likes it or not, so I look at other things. The 
Trees that line the block, the electric lines that go through them 
the stars and the full moon with its all-encompassing light. 
I listen to you babble and yap away and it sounds like sweet music to my ears
The sound of your voice. 
The way you pause when you’re trying to think of something.
The exasperated breath when you’ve struggled with Something too long.
I get lost in you. . . 
so lost I don’t notice that you’ve already seen me and now stand at my door.  
I look down to find you smiling at me. 
I smile back and hang up the phone. 
I run downstairs and open the door. 
I let you in.   

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