(Pencil drawing by Viestarts Aistars, "Rita pardomas" or "Morning Daydream")
The musky, moist flavor of a night
in your arms
still on my tongue,
eyes wander out the office window.
Mondays move that way.
With the lazy float
of a fall leaf.
Reluctant to hit ground,
dance on a loose breeze
a moment more, zag, swirl, sweep,
just a while
longer. I resist
giving myself
to the cuffing
of an hourly tick
of work
well done,
still seduced and honeyed over
by time spare, easy, slipping
loose like the fall of a well worn shirt
from a bare shoulder.
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