I turn my back on the man in blue To draw the silver fiberglass drapes In pleated privacy across Five pm's strawberry streets. No sooner have I drawn this eyelid Across the ever more mirror-like glass Than I feel hands on my stomach Drawing me inward to his. Lips on the side of my neck, Breath is in my hair. It tickles like a finger the canal to my eardrum. I turn 'round returning the kiss. Over his shoulder I watch his reflection, I feel his knuckles against my skin Slide under my un-tucked shirt. I watch his waist-band relax, open, let go.