Your mother’s big green couch

Nothing got the blood rising more Than the thrill Of your mother’s couch And those late nights With the drone of the weather network filling the deaf room. The air weighed by the humidity Your presence brings to it As you slip by your parent’s door Undetected And slip underneath my tattered woolen blanket. A simple tear is all I need, The slight bend to your knees. The din is smashed by our rising breath. Eyes transfixed on the hallway, Nerves a flame. Almost wishing she would crave a smoke. Exhilaration the fuel Driving our bodies to a close. Getting caught the stark white line That we both inhale. Dawn is breaking As the tiny apartment stirs. Me covering the sweat stain On your mother’s big green couch. You slipping back into your room.