a thousand bullets gone astray

Her breasts bounce
in step with each
step on the step
master they bounce,

Like over-filled
water balloons
on a string, they
bounce.

Sweat drips slowly
between her crevasse

We lick our lips
like on a hot summer
day, standing before
a merchant’s stall
of freshly cut water
melons, full of thirst

She steps.

Process notes: I was looking for inspiration this morning.  I saw the word desire and thought why not write a series of poems about our base emotions.  Leaning back in my chair, I started to day dream about desire and immediately I thought about the lady I saw in the gym the other day working out on the cross trainer.  She was wearing a very low-cut white tank top that concealed very little.  Now I would be less than truthful if I said I didn’t steal a peak like every other guy that was there at the time.