Mimi - Mona Erotic Poetry: Outside My Window

©Outside My Window

Mona Arizona, May 2014

Mimi Wolske - Mona Arizona™

All Rights Reserved

Reclining

On the sofa Friday

in the early morning hours

reading, unable to complain of fatigue,

feeling shrouded in a kind of

ineffable numbness

after hours of sensual words

spoken to me by him—words that offered

both of us pleasure while we were apart;

the heat outdoors returned and the

prevailing silence was disturbed by

an unrecognizable noise.

It was close;

I grew nervous.

Diversity

was a politically correct description

for this neighborhood;

but diversity had gone downhill

in the years I'd lived here.

There would be no lamenting about boredom

when frightened fathers from places like

India, Pakistan, Iran, and Japan

gave up their homes and moved

their families some place safer. The single Caucasian

mother who moved in across the street

when the sky was wide with blue,

lived there less than one month—

she fled during a work-week day due to

changing reflections and more menacing nights.

Speed Bumps.

They were new within the last month.

They're narrow.

They're too high;

they scrape the bottom of

low-riding cars...

and regular cars and trucks if they don't slow down.

Next year, school buses will no longer drive up the streets

to pick up Hispanic and Black and Caucasian boys and girls.

Pizza  and Chinese food

delivery guys and gals complain.

They'll probably stop their deliveries—

Wonder how many people will complain.

Surveillance

and police road blocks became weekly events.

Clouds, scantier and less menacing than the nights,

frolicked endlessly, changed shapes.

Curious at first,

I looked out my windows

as if I had no other options,

too afraid to step outside the door,

too afraid I'd get caught in the

vault of heaven due to some

New-Day-Wild-West gun fight between

the law and the banditos of the new "Hood."

Walled,

my yard was a prison with a glass door

to the house

and a gate with a Master lock to

protect the garbage can kept there

(because no one wanted it

in the garage in this heat)

and the glass door with its weak lock.

Birds came to life and coyotes disappeared

at sunrise on a day when

merciless heat returned with a bang.

A large footprint in the gravel border

made evidence someone jumped the

gray, six-foot-cement-block wall

to get into this prisoner's yard—why?

Dismantled...

that was how I found the doorknob

of the front door—which faces a main road

that is actually a large circle around the "Hood".

It came apart in my hands

when I tried to open the front door.

The heat was almost as murderous

as the battle ignited by a

new kind of burn from the

fearful sweat that streamed

into the fissure of a recent wound.

The infamous "They"

jammed the garage door opener, too.

Maybe I came home just in time;

nothing was missing, but things were moved around.

Sand stones tipped with the promise

of death surrounded me in disguised form.

Shadows,

silhouettes on the wooden blinds,

figures back lit by the streetlight

in the early hours of the morning,

as if I was watching a film noir,

rippled as they moved to one side outside.

Inching closer, I halted my progress,

stood on the opposite side inside.

A solitary finger slid slowly

between two brown slats

like a surgical blade but

emotionally stilted between

languor and vigor, it nervously and

twitchingly lifted the slat resting on it.

Voyeurism

was not my intention when

I watched my Hispanic neighbor

push a woman against the side of

his car and kiss her

while his hands strummed

her ass, which overhung nothingness

at least a foot out in the air.

When they moved to her belly,

her groans were musical and

I wondered if the two of them would

break into a cabaret number any

moment just to surprise me.

Then, two hands climbed and conquered

the crippling size of her breasts

like some mountaineer looking for

points to stick his flags.

His body oscillated; his hands slid

down to introduce themselves to

to her gyrating mound.

I turned away before they

opened their eyes and

turned to see the off-kilter slats of my blinds.

Slinking

back to the couch with my own

hedonistic thoughts and desires,

I tried to dash away desperate

wishes for my own guy

to make another phone call,

and picked up my book.

But I couldn't read...

the silhouettes continued their

sexual ballet on my blinds

and my body was responding

like some deserving candidate

for some prime role every girl wanted.

It would have ended sadly if

I hadn't made my presence known.

I went to a lamp and turned it on...

one more light from inside

and the shadows jumped

outside my window.

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