The Stevenson Democrat and the Opera Singer

She’s an opera singer.

On our first date we went to see “The Jungle Book”,

Then finished the night

Rutting like bears under Pendleton blankets

On the trunk of my blue 72’ Fiat Spyder

It’s been awhile. We’re friends now.

She lives on Portero Hill

I’d been doing yoga for a year.

All has changed.

I’m kingly now.

Sacred and divine.

Kevin Burns ‘Civil War” is the rage.

The slick tones of Shelby Foote’s voice

Drip off the screen this week.

So instead, the first night at her apartment

I watch an Adlai Stevenson documentary

Duly impressed, we then eat dinner at the Greek restaurant on the corner.

Self-discipline fails.

By the third night we’re in bed.

It didn’t require much.

Soon I feel a flood of emotion and warmth.

And just like that

I feel as if I am a woman making love to a woman.

When she comes, something jumps out of her heart into mine.

Afterwards, we lay side by side,

She’s sleeps to my right.

My body buzzes and trembles.

I touch my right foot to her left

To siphon off some of the sweet honey I feel.

If sex can be like this, I’ll be a Stevenson Democrat forever.