Dreams twist where they will

romantic fantasies were taught to paint
in soft lights the girl who made my pulse race
but each time we came face to face, almost,
words like snowflakes melted on my tongue.

One eve lightning struck at a coffee shop
where one line to the next slickly flowed
and I swore I must be dreaming when her key
opened her door and she said please come in.

By nightfall she scrubbed my face with her cunt
and breathed a promise betwixt ragged grunts
that she did not mind my less than stellar size.
That’s what her stable of big boys were for.