Lovers of the Early Hours

We are lovers of the early hours
Making our way to each other at daybreak
Before the city groans dinosaur roars
When the songbirds first break rest
Chirping in a new day while
Squirrels scamper on tree limbs across electric wires
The only humans awake are dog walkers
of tiny chihuahuas and fat bull dogs

And I find you fresh and ready
Nude as a green grape
Your melon breasts tumbling from your bathrobe
Quickly I pile my folded cloths beside your bed
Your sex warm and wet to my close shaved face
A balm I will wear as proudly as if one of those gay
handsome models peddling scent from the glossy magazines
Your clitorus is a rose bud that I taste with long licks and kisses
This morning you are quick to orgasm, once twice, now headed to a third
I press my missile home, as if the baton of a symphony conductor gone wild
and bring on the third as your breathing once more quickens
“Yes baby, yes,” as I enter and recede, my arms around your buttocks
squeezing your flesh until that ripe moment when we merge in delightful harmony
I stay inside you until we hear doors slamming, cars starting
the traffic from the nearby highway filled with commuters, a lone dog barking
I disengage and you rise to sitting position,
watching me as I quickly wash my sex and face,
knowing I will carry your sacred scent for hours
as indelible as a tattoo
the perfume of lovers that they don’t sell on 5th Avenue