April 20, 2016

You know some people walk around and its like they have a bitter pill in their mouth all the time, and they never want to spit it out, they just want to be offended by fucking everything?

Yeah, that was my ex. All I ever wanted from life was to do my job, which I love, by the way, and come home and be with someone who is good to be with. Maybe have a nice vacation sometimes. A few hobbies, camping maybe. And there was my ex, sucking on that bitter pill all the time, spitting out angry comments and imagining slights everywhere. It was exhausting.

Who knows what the original beef was. God, mommy probably loved someone else more, or baby brother got a bigger piece of cake or a fancier bike at Christmas. Who cares? Get over it, seriously.

But that’s neither here nor there. I said “ex” because that’s in the past. Now my life is almost what I want. Almost. The ex is gone because I needed peace. I still love my job, which, if I didn’t mention before is cakes. I make cakes, and they are everything you ever imagined a cake can be. God, I’m good at cakes. If you have a talent and you can make money at it, well, that’s practically heaven.

You may have noticed I keep changing the subject, a problem I have, I guess, and maybe why the ex agreed to a divorce. Which leads me back to what I was going to say. Almost perfect. I even go camping sometimes. But the house is always empty, and it wouldn’t be right to have pets I never see. So I find myself working later and later, taking commissions I wouldn’t normally take, making money I don’t need, but staying busy so I don’t have to go home to that goddamn empty house.

Which leads me to Andy. Andy of the perfect body and bright smile and sunny hair and strong hands. I could go on, but I sense boredom setting in. Andy is a masseuse I met when, after constructing the ultimate dragon cake—seriously, six feet long, breathed fire, the works—for a geek couple’s sci-fi wedding. They were so grateful they gave me Andy, or, well, heh, a session with Andy after I was done with all the heavy lifting. So they were off on their honeymoon, and there I was, naked under a sheet, and Andy came in and my heart stopped and I can’t say it ever started back up again. I’ve lived with it in my throat ever since.

Have you ever met someone and you knew immediately there was a connection? I think everyone has at least once, and if you haven’t, get out there and find it because it’s like being drunk and high and having an orgasm all at once. Every cell in your body lights up, seriously, believe it or not, it’s a real thing. Oh, Andy, Andy, Andy, that was it for me. I couldn’t even speak, and thank God I didn’t have to, I was having a massage.

Aware of every single muscle, tendon, blood vessel, and hair follicle. Also aware of every flaw, bulge, corn, blemish, and stubble. Still, every cell in my body sang. I practically ignited at Andy’s first touch and none of that mattered anymore.

Jeez, you probably think I’m nuts. That my ex was the only person I’d ever had sex with? Not true. I’ve always been active that way. It’s usually a fun, relaxing thing, I don’t want strings attached, and that’s okay. But after Andy? I don’t know if I can ever stand to have another person touch my body again. Ever.

Yet I had no ability to speak, at least not the first time. And yes, I’ve seen Andy since. Or, I’ve made appointments to have a massage, and yes, Andy’s hands have been on my naked body again. God, just not the way I want.

I just don’t know, though, if I’m imagining what I think I am feeling. Sometimes it seems like there is a slow, languorous, lingering in Andy’s touch. Sometimes it seems so sensual, but I can’t tell if its me and my longing for that or actual, real, honest, mutual attraction.

So, I made my play, lame as it is, and I’m waiting to see if Andy shows up. After the massage, I left the payment in an envelope…with a note. It seems so stupid now, but I can’t seem to be coherent when Andy’s around. It was an invitation to dinner…and breakfast. Yeah, I mean, yeah, staying the night. And I said if there was no interest, no harm, no foul, we could just go on the way we’ve been. But it’s almost seven now and I don’t know if I will eat this dinner alone or not. The candles are lit, the music is on, and I’m in my finest jeans and t-shirt. What do you want? I’m a baker not a CEO.

Fuck, I’m an idiot.

Wait. That’s the doorbell.

Not a Fool

April 1, 2016

Not a fool
to love you so.
Not a fool
to find joy in
your steady gaze
your open heart
your loving arms
your thoughtful touch
your peaceful depth
your constancy
your hungry kiss.
Not a fool to love
this time.


November 13, 2015


We met at the park,
you came upon me and stopped to talk.
When you saw I had kids
you didn’t freak out and
I smiled.

You never pushed too hard,
but you invited me places.
We met again and again,
and every time
I smiled.

One night, saying goodbye,
you reached into the car
and kissed me.
All the way home, oh, how
I smiled.

One night, at your place,
we explored one another,
and before it went too far
you asked me,
“Are you sure?”
I said yes, and
I smiled.

So many nights together,
you came to mine and tapped
at the bedroom window.
I would fly to the front door
and we would kiss and kiss.
So much love,
so many smiles.

Whatever happened to us?



What We Are

November 6, 2015

What We Are

Certain scents move me in time.
Passing a carnival today,
the popcorn and frying food
mingled with apples and cinnamon,
the fresh autumn breeze,
and the crackle of leaves underfoot
took me back.

We’d been seeing each other
for just a short while.
We went to the fair,
still full of the wonder
of just holding hands.

We were so young.

It felt like the most important day of my life.
In a way, it was.

Sights and sounds blurred,
for I was looking at you,
looking at us,
feeling your hand in mine.

Food, sounds, so many people
all rushing by, all unimportant,
tasteless, invisible. We were ghosts
in the world, haunting ourselves.

At last, face aching from smiling,
feet numb and blistered
we went home to your place
for the first time.

How naturally we flowed into
each other’s arms.
How easily, comfortably we loved.
Unforgettable, the incredible sensations,
more intense for the newness.
How I loved you.

It was awkward and wonderful
and perfect.

It is perfect still.
Our knowledge of one another helps,
but each time adds to the others,
adds from the first
building our life together,
ecstasy and pain,
to make us what we are now.



February 24, 2014


All night the flower,
petals tightly closed against
depredations of moth and moon
remains firmly resistant to their blandishments.

Once the sun begins to rise,
the caress of light begins to play along the petals,
warming the flower, as your embrace warms me.

Coaxing gently, persistently, the light glows.
soft kisses of butterfly and bee batter delicately,
waiting for the flower to open, for the petals to relax,
just as your kisses cajole and allure and induce and beguile.

The choice belongs to me, as it does the flower.
Whether to open and glory in the sun, stigmas revealed to preferred
visitors, bees, legs fat with pollen, sipping the nectar prepared for them
in exchange for flower-ripening life.

Do they shudder with delight, as I do,
when they are penetrated, plundered, partaken?

Do flowers groan with bliss upon an insect kiss?

Do they wait, impatient, for the next encounter?




February 14, 2014


That moment
when time stands still
and the look in those eyes
seem to melt the world away:
the chill night
the occasional passing car
the sound of leaves rustling in the slight breeze,
all fades until the only real thing
in a spinning world
is the sound of heartbeats
throbbing so fast it seems impossible
and every inch of skin
is desperately sensitive.
A touch sends a thrill
and the look darkens, deepens,
becomes more serious
until beat by pulsing,
bursting beat
lips touch
lightly at first, but then
exquisite pleasure
and only those few inches of sensitive skin,
the lips,
feel like an entire world
because the rest of it is gone,
replaced by this agony
of bliss.

Night Witness by Rafa Alvarez

Night Witness by Rafa Alvarez


May 29, 2013


I am tentative, unsure.
I hesistate.
Yet you, you know me
so well,
you sigh a moment,
and I whisper,
“You know
I get this way… this
is who I am.”
And you softly

Your hands on
my shoulders
are weights
at first.

And I shudder,
like that butterfly,
wings trembling,
ready to take flight.

But your smile is sure,
and you bend to
kiss softly
because you know
any harder caress
might excuse
my retreat.

And now, though
I’m still unsure,
your confidence
and your lips
press mine, you
ease your tongue so
I feel safe,
relax a tiny bit.

Your hands begin
to roam.
I sigh, breathe,
and soon I feel
the bed behind my knees,
urging me down, down
into a cloud of
comforter and warmth.

I fall.

It seems sudden,
I am bare
and befuddled by
sensation, and
wonder how.

But now I am pinned
to the bed—
like a butterfly
pinned to a board—
by your tongue.

The warmth grows
a silent (amazing)
makes me forget
cares, worries.

And when we join
there is no more


March 28, 2013


I wander through
my day-to-day
existence. Fine,
but things seem gray.
But that’s all right,
it’s all okay,
My element
-al passion play
is actually
a throw-away
the way I feel
right now, today.

And then you reach
out, talk to me,
and all my dread
-ful apathy
is swept away,
I’m undersea,
I cannot breathe;
our repartee
wakes my senses
makes me feel free.
And makes me fear
and want to flee.

But looking back
at my dull life;
its lack of joy,
its lack of strife,
and all my wishing,
all my grief,
my hopes for more
cut like a knife.
The things I do
seem empty, rife
with pointlessness.
This is no life.

And so I then
look back to you,
and see the joys
(and sorrows too)
that wait there for
me, all seems new.
I struggle, fight
what I know’s true
because I can’t be
in love with you.
I have a life.
You know I do.

But still my soul
longs for our love.
Longs for the days
of hand-in-glove,
of long warm nights
of making love
and holding on
and I think of
our passionate
and pleasured love
and angry spats
like fire above
and know that you
are my true love.

And how I long
to turn away
from my whole life,
from stodgy gray.
And run to you,
be led astray.
With no remorse
my life betray.
But there’s the bite
the edge, the fray.
To do as I
would like today,
we would then
cause such dismay.
I think again.
I turn away.


February 26, 2013

From first glance to real romance, courtship is a beautiful thing.



Open your mind
to me.
You are fascinating
yet so closed.
I long to know what
you’re thinking.

Open your eyes
to me.
See me, the real me,
for who I am.
I long for you
to know me too.

Open your words
to me.
What do you think about
when you are so quiet.
I long to hear what
you ponder.

Open your dreams
to me.
Tell me what they are
in detail.
I long to help them
all come true.

Open your lips
to me.
Let me kiss you,
steal your breath;
I long to breathe new life, hold you,
cherish you, love you.

Open your body
to me.
This passion we feel
is only the beginning.
I long to spend
my life with you.


January 11, 2013


Waiting for my chance
for a moment
a touch
and then you’re gone
and I wait
for my chance.

My life is as full
as busy
as hectic
as yours
but do you know
how I live
live and breathe
for those brief moments?

Do you know
how I treasure each one
and leaf through each
as through a
well-loved book?

Will there truly
be a day
when waiting will
at last
be done?

When days
and nights
will be filled
with love
love with
touch and
breath and
pleasure unlimited
for just