Nothing tastes sweeter than the music at night
except maybe the soft and openness of a kiss.

The body strips away to bones
so that your ivory and the ivory touch
in a sensual and exciting way.

Elbows bump in your audience
and the feeling becomes sexual and red.
Fingers part hair and
music has filled the air and our lung to the brim.

As a unit, the audience breathes to the off beat of your
syncopated game.
Feeling heavier,
the breath is louder and hotter.
Thumbs part opposites’ lips and dare
to sweat and kiss in the velvet seats.

Close enough to the satin sheets of a marriage bed.

Moans, like singing, echo and shake in the space.
They bounce off of the walls and pound against other moans,
other songs of pleasure and steps behind satisfaction.

An individual breaks, for a moment, away from the intoxication
of the sex music.
“What are we doing here?”
Another individual broke,
“We are finally living without thinking.”
And back they went to the infinite loving of the others around them.

The music played on.