Their age
trapped them in
a maze
the scholars call
Generation X.
where 70’s free sex
and LSD
has evolved into
90’s methamphetamines
and XTC.

Wet lips touch.
Tongues twist, tie
up in a kiss.

Ashes on the tray.
A joint feeling
blankets their libidos,
which crashes in
waves of quivers
and leg shakes.

Above silk sheets,
on the bed’s headboard,
a fragrance candle’s
flame flickers two
dove breath beats.

Her ear resting
on his chest.
Fingers brush.

She begins to speak,
only to be
hushed by two
fingertips softly
pressing her lips.

She tangles and
twists the hair
around his naval.
Twirling it erect like
a shampoo devil horn.

Out of the corner
of tired eyes with
dime size pupils,
enveloping shadows dance
with the yellow flame.

She slips into sleep.

As a pillow, he
nestles her head
in his chest,
caressing the silky flesh
around her armpit.

A pleasant scent quickly
itches the tip of his nose.
It was her coming
from his pillow.

With slow sunset eyelids,
he tries to smile
but slides into sleep.