(OH HOW I WISH IT WOULD RAIN)
THE MODE OF TRANSPORT.
PLEASE LISTEN...
https://youtu.be/6BOp6p4fdoE
Raindrops...
That's what comes to mind when I smell your sex.
Ozone in the air as your wetness permeates and saturates the layers of my atmosphere.
I the planet waiting to receive your life giving moisture on the surface of my tongue.
I the tree standing tall in anticipation.
Droplets becoming the torrential downpour.
I in the puddles frolicking and cavorting, I do so love the rain.
Water so cleansing as it washes away the tiredness and the dirt of the day.
Raindrops.
They glistening in the hairs of my beard and shining on my fingertips.
I placing them under my nostrils and taking a whiff.
Mmmmmm.
The smell and it takes me away and I just wanna play.
I just wanna splash and I grow so thick and strong, the roots of me soaking up the nourishment and sending signals to my trunk.
The pollen flowing through my whole being.
The pollen threatening to cover everything.
It wanting to be freed so that it may pollinate the crops of your fields.
So much that it would run as rivers down your thighs.
So long having lain dormant behind the dam, so rhetorical this symphony of letters and syllables.
I needing the rain so.
A dance to bring it pouring from your clouds.
I looking at you and perusing these things.
Raindrops.
Hmmmmm.
Let me smell your sex.
JERALD HAMZAHFARUQ MURPHY
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