At Belly Button Level

I was all sweaty after your kickboxing routine, watching the world jump up and down, twist and turn, as you punch and kick your way to tighter abs and glutes.

Thanks for the shower afterward, the thorough cleaning. It feels good to be lint free and less smelly.

Usually I’m hidden from view. It’s not my fault, it’s just that you can’t go around showing me off at work. But on days like today, I am left uncovered and given a view of the world. You are walking, flaunting me off, taking me to meet someone new at a restaurant.

I see the fat bellies of the passersby, car doors, counters, mailboxes and bushes. You weave in and out of people, cross streets, and arrive at your destination. The AC is cool inside the pub. Too soon I can only see the gum stuck under the table.

Then, I am shoved against the table’s edge as you lean in for a kiss. I move in and out with every excited breath, and with every laugh. I feel his pressed shirt, his leather belt holding up dress slacks as you hug him. You like this one.

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