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.