Fresh Bathed and Oiled

Fresh Bathed and Oiled

The steamy water made a mist as?
it rose against the mirror.?
Soon I couldn’t see her eyes…?
but I knew they were there…?watching
–?they were always watching back then.
?Drops of sweat formed in my hair
?as I felt the warmth of her kindness?
envelope my senses.?The steamy hot bath closed in tight?
against my bright red skin.

Love was clean back then,?fresh bathed and oiled.?

Soft and supple like the petals of a rose?
that’s graciously surrendered its tenderness?
to the warm spring air?
knowing when it does it must?
start the drying
–?the dying
–?the knowing.
?The rose was gracious back then.

She used to look at my toes
–?she did that when she was sexy…?
me, I looked at the woman
–?the woman made me sexy.?
I am still sexy for the woman…?
She looked at my toes back then
–?she hasn’t been sexy for years
–?perhaps my toes know why.?I do not.
But maybe I knew back then.

Her eyes appeared?over the rim of my spectacles,?
just to tell me it was over.
?Over while I still lived in the haunted house
where two strangers?
shared torn sheets draped?
over a withered love?
that was parched from the drought.
Ah, but once it rained,?
it rained in torrents
–?it rained in floods
–?it even bloomed back then.

?Once there was a love so vivid and gay?
that neighbors would complain;?
too noisy for them they said,
?but now even the neighbors know?
the love is dead.
We danced
–?I know we danced because?
there is still a rhythm in my head
–?it goes like this:
kick-a-do?
kick-a-boom?
kick-a-bang-bang-boom?
it goes on forever
?so I know we danced…?
but that was back then?
when she looked at my toes
Back then
When we were sexy
Fresh bathed and oiled

Copyright 1/4/02 Rusty Cline

Copyright 1/4/02 Rusty Cline