It's the weekend

Friday night is reduced to an encounter
the tictoctictoc that makes it urgent
the lonely hours behind the glass that grow
the distinct aroma of a photograph

So it is that Friday night is a jello shot
time in its liquid form swallowed whole
the waiting bed, the morning after, all
have been pleasantly forgotten

In the now it's only your body and mine
the sweet aroma of the longed for other
the thrusting pleasure of the fantasy
all palliatives to ease the lonely walk home

It may be that Saturday too the familiar stranger
will allow his companionship
prolonging the moment when you face the mirror
alone, there you are you and no one else
wanting to be wanted; longing for someone out there

But fear is easier to keep as partner.

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