Ten years from now I’ll be looking at a different ass
(if I can see it under the blazer) two rows in front of me while we stand for the gospel,
I’ll be wondering if those broad shoulders curve to strong pecs and rippled
back muscles that would flex into my fingers half the size of his sausages.
Ten years from now, child maybe clinging to my painted nails,
toying with my bracelet or rings, I’ll be thinking whether his
balls are shaved, or what it feels like to look up at his stubbled chin
from my knees.
Ten years from now, husband maybe, smiles at me
when we sit down when the Priest indicated we should
I’ll return the mirth and think if the guy two rows up can
have the strength to lift me up and down while I ride him,
if he could last while he sat and I bounced sitting up and down.
Just like today I wondered at the guy’s butt two rows up
while I held your hand.