Occasional Lover

I know you know I’m looking.

You can feel my look, ripping

your top buttons off, my thumb in your mouth;

latitude and languorous plans are not ours,

we live minutes hand to mouth;

no breadth, no depth: no flow,

more a colliding of power –

and it’s just some of you, no time for all, just some,

and that time is rushed and rough;

but you’re enough, occasional lover, enough.

 

Anna McKerrow

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