i drift and daydream
    about a man i met
    yesterday in the drugstore.

    craving the feel of a trashy paperback
    romance, the bodice-ripping kind found
    on shelves in the supermarket checkout line

    the kind where the women, fleshed out
    in maple syrup sentences, have slow
    luscious sex, always orgasmic.

    but it gets too hot and i flip myself
    into the water, relieving the sun's
    grip from my legs and back.

    cool, i am weightless...floating
    with arms stretched out

    in the lake's violet wetness
    until i can't remember
    if it's been five minutes or thirty

    and i climb back on the raft
    and start all over again

    this time, with the olive-skinned
    cashier from the corner store
    and the sun on my stomach.

Copyright © Sherrie Weller, 2002.  All Rights Reserved.