Salty Tear

The exquisite memory returned, carrying
goosebumps like an expensive alligator

It triggered her soft, delicate hairs
to curl up and over like palm trees that
swayed outside the window on that sultry
Mexican night.

A rivulet of sweat slid
between elegantly placed shoulder blades,
trickling down softly, aware of the unique
contours of her.

The perspiration amassed in a sweet, musky
puddle in the small of her back.  Her
slow, rhythmic breathing created waves
like a brewing tropical storm.

The vision suddenly impacted with such
velocity, it slapped her loins and sent
shockwaves ricocheting between her svelte,
bronzed legs like dominoes clicking in a
perpetual spiral…steady and unending.

She tensed and arched as the wretched
passion of the image invoked lightening
bolts of twisted fire to clutch desperately
at her heart.

The movement launched the carnal pool
of sweat into a torrid tidal wave.
It splashed down onto satin sheets,
greedily absorbed like so many
others before it.

The wetness fermented quietly in the spicy
den of cool satin.  The silky swathing
created a cocoon of hibernation.

She lay in wait for the sun to pierce through
the ragged curtain and suck up the moisture
once more.

It will be released again tonight.
Perhaps, as a lone
salty tear.

Kim Stokes
Spring 1991

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