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To Joseph Garner's previous piece

Eight reasons to call Paris

I must confess,
I have missed being your lover.
I have missed the rhythm of your step,
your laughter, and your superman eyes 
landing upon me.
I have missed you madness
and animal pounces,
your perfect shoulders panther-muscled
slight, firm hips, full breasts,
and wide nipples.
I have missed the fury of your unleashed passion,
I have missed your hands
on the back of my head 
forcing me deeper and
the tearing muscles in my neck
caught between your twisting thighs, and
I have missed your back arched in wild convulsion,
fingers clawing at my chest,
and cervix pulsing, kneading against
the end of me, all of me
and all of you focused
into one half-inch ball of fusion light,
bringing me on,
bringing me with you,
bringing me back to you.

I have always come back to you.
I have always been your lover.

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