the poetry knook :: the poetry of stephen m. james :: indianapolis, indiana » winter

Walking home

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

My foot crushes a dead leaf crunching,
Wind whispers between my legs and pants in my ear.
The chill chides my choice of one shirt rippling?
Dreaming of warmth walking home,
Shaking at the thought, shivering at the cold
Walking home.

But for the journey

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

Admiring the gymnast on her yellow roadside balance,
turning to me smiling, arms outstretched–
longing to feel her pulse next to mine,
chest to chest– lost in her shoulder’s scent,
comforting me with clenched embrace–
gripping blades and smalls,
walking not for the destination, but the journey,
breathing little clouds in winter air–
sparkling, crystallizing, her and me.

Because you’ll walk by

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

Because you’ll walk by (with your wife)
coughing in the cold, winter wind
recalling the times you made out:
Walking through the fog on the windshield,
no wonder all the great poets slept around.
You keep asking if arousing her is good,
because all the road signs say “Wrong Way”–
but that’s the thrill:
dodging traffic and rolling over into the grassy median,
breathing harder and heavier pulling you into her,
It’s not sex but might as well be.