95th and Collins

by Wallace Taylor

"Come closer, do more," I whisper as you kiss the top of my toes and shrink back. You're so full of love I want to jump inside you; bury myself in your scent; live forever in your passionate grip. My eyes are closed now and my whole head is smiling. You inch up my legs and back away; a bashful giggle skips out of me. "When do you stop being beautiful?" I gasp, and run into your wavy ocean embrace.


Wallace Taylor lives and writes in New Jersey.