I was hoping you'd find me here.
Skipping rocks against a lake the color of crude oil
and the smell of smooth wet limestone.
They say everyone has their place of power.
A moment of triumph.
A previous sexual encounter.
A clever remark.
This is mine.
There are no adoring fans hefting me on their shoulders.
No parades, bandstands or roulette wheels.
Just unnatural light and an infinite echoing empty.
Someone once explained hell as such a place to me.
I think that was the moment I realized I was the exact opposite of this person.
To a white man, darkness is evil, to a dark man, an albino is to be clubbed to death.
There was a ripple this time, a mirage of sound and arousal in the darkness.
Cooing and gasping, with the faint smell of warm sweat.
Only a trinket, a bauble, a kind gesture.
She had her back braced against a bathroom stall,
her power-slacks wrinkled against her hips
as she stirred her not-entirely-pink privates,
clutching my impotent offering in her free hand.
It was becoming all the more frequent.
Daydreams of her pleasure in the elevator,
as she passed and smiled.
When I found her a continent away
What's worse was the guilt of only watching.
I just wanted to hear her pop, roll, moan and simmer.
Perhaps I find myself treading these depths too long.
But my fingers aren't pruney yet,
she is spoken for, though I can't imagine her happy.
She is wild and fickle
not like fire but a lightning storm.
Fire you can trust to destroy everything.
... this is far more random, thrice as remarkable.
What doth light bring to the dark that eats dark
the spiral that crushes all in an inescappeable pitfall
perhaps building momentum for another burst
perhaps only gathering more dark.
A funnel hell of weight where light is nothing.
The empty becoming a force.
Perhaps this darkness could consume her
and in doing so
free her to be slave to my whim.
I catch a tremble in my arm...
almost reaching out.