A sigh rising like a giant wave
as if it was not real.
We walked in & he closed the door.
Chair, bed, crowded around me.
He ran the curtain; the bed gave way to the chair.
It held my pants for a moment.
Mouth ajar above me. He took me,
I sat next to him and sprawled,
he climbed up, took my hand & slipped it
between his buttocks. I got up
trying to move a little & play. I fell again,
his mouth on me. He sucked too hard, I closed
my eyes, everything clouded.
I could not stand it, so I closed my eyes
to calm down inside, but he sucked too fast.
Nothing came out, he gasped,
his breath between my legs. I couldn’t see outside.
The curtain had covered the light.
He sat down, touched me up and down.
I thought I had seen an extra finger
on the palm of his hand.
Strong, too strong and hard, it hurt.
I tried to fix my eyes on his mouth but
I couldn’t stand it. I got up.
He had his hand on me, I sat down next
to him. He started again, this time with his hand
beating and squeezing. My hand
on his bare chest. My eyes fixed on his lips.
I was about to explode. He felt like an upright wave,
a shadow behind the shadow.
I was afraid his lover had followed us here.
What if he knocks on the door, opens it,
finds me semi-naked & erect in front of the bed?
Daniel kept touching me from top to bottom.
I kept hearing a bell outside. It rang for us.
Already empty, nothing came from inside me.
He got up and ran the curtain. No one was there.
Sergio A. Ortiz is a two-time Pushcart nominee, a four-time Best of the Web nominee, and 2016 Best of the Net nominee. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in FRIGG, Tipton Poetry Journal, Drunk Monkeys, Bitterzeot Magazine, Moko, and The Paragon Journal. He is currently working on his first full-length collection of poems, Elephant Graveyard. He is presently domiciled in San Juan, Puerto Rico. Bienvenue au Danse, Sergio.