I lust.

How can I explain it?

When I see you walk into the coffeehouse.

That’s when it begins.

Sweating, eyeing you up and down, I get that feeling.

Yeah, you get me horny, boy!

Do you blame me?

Don’t you look in the mirror and lust after yourself?

You long blond, skater hair-cut.

That twig-like, toned body of yours.

Yeah, I bet ya get off on yourself.

I would if I were you.

Do you blame me?

Yep stand there ordering your usual cherry phospate.

Run your hands trough your hair.

You know I’m watching you!

Play on it boy.

Why not feel yourself up in front of me?

I’d like it!

You sit down.

One table away from me.

You want me too don’t you?

Loot at me.

Look at me.

There you go.

Our eyes finally meet.

What’s that?

Is that a pager in your pocket?

Or are you just happy to see me?

Is that a smile?

A wink?

I’m gone.

I’m in a world of raging hormonic sexual fantasies!

You’re getting up to go to the bathroom.

I’d like to go with you.

Can I?

Yes I can.

I walk into the bathroom.

Only, you’re not going to the bathroom.

You’re standing in the stall.

Staring at me as I walk in.

You lick your lips.

I push you against the wall of the stall.

I slam the stall door.

You grab my lips and force them open.

Your tongue tastes exceptional.

Better then I’d imagined.

Licking, lusting, loving.

We finish each other off.

We smile as we go our separate ways satisfied.

Do you blame me for my lust?

–Nathan Smorynski