Where may I touch you?

where may I touch you?

and when?

and...again?

I ache to slake this cursed thirst,
to feel the heat of your body
pass through me
like a beam of coherent thought
gone taut
in the superstring
universe
wrapped around your finger
and anchored in my mind.
my heart.
my loins.
where joins twain forms
to quell the storm
to swell the warm and wicked
consequences
of a single touch.
in thrall of all
the fantasies you fan.
a fingertip
to slip through
your barrier.
and carry your words
from soft lips
from which I sip
my sustenance
into the native dance
of lovers celebrating
what they are.
when they touch.

Have you heard of William F. DeVault?

 Listen to his podcast if you get a chance, such a sexy voice.