Going to Bed after WorkEarly afternoon, just home from rush-hour Traffic in my chamber. I am bedpost bound, My potential energy like caged steam I need to blow. The cars move in and out Of lanes curved like backseat covers. 30, 45 minute man of the bottom, Top, Any position I want because I like it fast. Chemicals strain to break free the air, Handcuffed hands from tortured Pleasure. Bang! The door, the chemicals, The slamming of bodies in desperation, Energy changing into other forms, Electricity. Sparks like newlyweds trying New positions in the kitchen. Chemistry, skin against skin In sheathing lubrication. Creation and destruction are impossible, But sexual heat flows in waves, Life pools, 8-inches deep, Porn poetry and truth. Legs crossed over his back, Jolts from the work of long days alone Released from his ability to move, Kinetic agility of passion. He’s hard. I’m wet. It’s Fast Like Falling On the protected mattress, Mom’s soft cotton linen. Now it’s white on white After panting and begging. Heat waves fall against his naked sweat, Two surfaces – our surfaces – sliding. My residual sex, sheets of smoke Fermenting from heat. I am released, energy charged From this afternoon sex.