Stealth Operation

translation from my original in Spanish

Every night, and most mornings,

and several times throughout

every day; my mind trespasses,

it drops whatever it is doing,

pinpoints your location like a

homing pigeon, and crosses the

city or the country or an international

border or a few whole continents;

and it crashes through brick and

mortar and barbed wire fences;

it fords bodies of water and dons

night vision goggles; or whatever

else is required, to slip quietly

into your life and seduce you.

 

Each time, I think, this time he

will notice, or everyone else will

notice; but nobody ever does.

It is a stealth operation. There is

no physical evidence; the only

bruises left are the rope burns on

my wrists from karmic ties and a

sore ego form where you hold me

down to play. I swear it is true; if you

knew about only ¼ of the times I

think about you, find you, open my

mysteries and take your body into

mine like wine, like communion,

like an unanswered prayer of release;

 

You would know that you are quite

possibly, the most loved and admired

and cherished man on this earth.

If you knew I was stealing your most

intimate moments, as often as I do,

would you offer them freely, or

would you encase your heart in a

lead box to protect you from my

insolence? There is nothing I have ever

wanted more than a couple of nights

in your bed; and nothing I have ever

been more afraid to have it given as

a gift. This truth is why I steal so much

when it comes, to the question, of you.