Twilight creeps cunningly
over the grim, gray-green shades of October.
The Pineapple Express splashes reassuringly
against bushes and buses
onto the cobblestone a peeved pedestrian scurries along,
shunning the showers for the warmth of a waiting sedan,
unaware that I catch her carelessly in the corner of my eye.
But my gaze prefers you and your nose,
which, though twitchless,
reminds me of Elizabeth Montgomery if she’d been a man.
Now that our tandoori prawns and pappadums
are just a gastronomical memory,
lulling us into a tryptophan-tinged reverie
devoid of inhibition,
I tackle you to the floor
with the playfulness of a platypus pup,
between volleys of caresses over valleys of skin,
whether our fun will flicker out.
Adrian Slonaker lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, USA, working as a copywriter and copy editor, with interests that include vegetarian cooking, Slavic languages, Victorian horror fiction, wrestling, and 1960s pop music. Adrian’s work has appeared in Better Than Starbucks, cc&d, and Dodging the Rain, and publication in Ginosko Literary Journal is forthcoming.