You may be wondering
why
I seem to be behind
you
whenever you turn round
behind you at the
freezers
as you reach to
fetch
a bag of frozen peas
behind you at the
fish counter
as you stretch
across the glass
and point out mackerel
you need
behind you as you
contemplate the wine
dark fruity and red
or reach down
bottles or aromatic gin.
The reason is quite
simple
and I’m sure you
know
that as you lean
forward
the shadow of your
briefs appears
through the thin
white cotton
stretched across the
firm rounds of your bottom
and my thoughts have
been following
the textile terminator
forward from your buttocks
to their antipodes
and in my head my
fingers
have pulled at the
soft elastic
and eased themselves
in to the warm damp nest
beneath
and sought out your
deepest crevices
and your touchiest velvet
places
but now that you have
checked out
all I can do is take
my basket
