We collide--
Hot and cold front
vortex manifests.
Pulled in-
Like a tug on a work-a-day tie
at the entryway--
Passion melts dirty, winter snow
grit dimpling our backs.
Or over the back of the hideous floral print couch:
Promised patterns left imperfect.
No time to wait spontaneous on the kitchen table,
one leg too short
our salient grunts
accompanied by a
thump,
thump,
thump.
Then a thumpity, thumpity, thumpity--
Then a thumthumthumthum--
And released.
Destroyed?
From a trifling torrent of torment?
No.
Over and over until no longer colliding
We merge.