Deliciousness

His right eyebrow arches
slightly, subtly. His sapphire
eyes twinkle, always smiling,
and he whispers sensuously:

"It smells of deliciousness."

I don’t really follow,
understanding nothing,
but I beam anyway.
There’s a covert secret
there only I pause and wonder
if I missed the joke,
or if I am just a bit clueless,
or possibly both. Sigh!

Because all I can see
are how white his teeth
are, and how smooth his skin:
translucent, alabaster,
no flaws whatsoever.

His warm demeanor:
flirting, calling, caressing,
letting me in, and it’s possible,
just possible, that I was so captivated
that I missed nearly everything
he had cooed into my ear:

"It smells of deliciousness.”

I would think about that one
For hours to come, creating
my own meaning
for irresponsible ears.