Sultry machines, typewriters.
Yes, really. Think.
Silken ribbons, sopping in anticipation.
Traces of wetness left on sheets of white.
Intense, this fluid exchange.
These keys are as blindfolded lovers-
ribbed and longing for touch, they
quiver at the first stroke as hot darts of desire
leap upwards. Arched limbs.
Every finger’s caress intense, leaving
burning, lasting impressions.
In one moment of time.
Never to be repeated.
Then folded, slowly
Copyright Tom Tide 2017