Desire

I saw you at a convenience store late at night. I was filling my car with gas while you and your friends were buying beer and talking by your car. It was deep summer, and you weren’t wearing a shirt. Your bare chest shone in the florescent lighting of the parking lot. Years too young for me, you were perfect. Young, virile, tan, lightly and tastefully tattooed. Something untamed raged in you. Something like the ocean. Salty. Wild. Powerful.

For a moment you caught my eye, and on a sudden whim, I let you in. I let you see into my eyes. See yourself. Your perfection. See me, the raw sexual desire radiating off me like a fever suddenly spiked.

You started to walk towards me. I smiled and shook my head and got in my car. Thinking, “Oh no baby, you’re way too young.”

That look, that was a gift. I just wanted to let you know.

Did you get it? That it was a gift?

It’s not a gift I give lightly or often.

My heart is fickle and stingy.  But for a second or two, I let you in.

And you’re there still.