Being – There

catnight catnigr2

In 1967 I moved into a ten bedroom Victorian in downtown Oakland. When I came up the walkway, she stood her ground, forcing me to go around her. I could not see her eyes behind her large sunglasses. She was going to be my roommate. We lived with a rock n’ roll band. I had a studio next to the sound room. One night, the door opened. She came in, sat down, and did not say a word. I was before a large canvas with a brush in my hand.

Being – There

by

Jon Presco

Copyright 2015

 

She had to have me

The young man at his easel

stepping back

taking a long look

taking a slow drag

from his cigarette

She had to have me

From the chair as she watched

the silent stranger

find the ashtray

without looking

Moving like a cat

stalking his vision

he picks up another brush

She had to have me

and the colors

on my faded jeans

My long fingers

brushing aside

my Bohemian hair

Releasing my dragon’s breath

as I came close to kiss

the muse of my creation

She had to have my touch

My Lancelot caress

My sable strokes

upon her breasts

Her cheeks, her lips

silently begged me

Amazed at how

I could ignore her

She wanted me

her object of seduction

I was her lustful masterpiece

She had to have me

my best friends lover

came into

my windowless attic room

By candlelight

she rested her head

upon the muscles of my abdomen

to feel my tension

my ensuing thrust

she dreamed would be there

She wanted to hear my voice

feel the rising and falling

of my breathing

at the nape of her erotic neck

unfrozen in time

Merlin had his Vivian

She had to have my words

in her delicate ears

feeling my story resonate

down her beautiful spine

to the vortex of her soul

where she wanted me

to come to rest

She had to have me

there.

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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