The Electricity Man (Poetry)

It wasn’t as though it was love at first sight —
it was dead unromantic, a wet winter night
and our eyes didn’t meet and there wasn’t a crowd
in the room where the jukebox was playing too loud
so I didn’t look up when he spoke, didn’t blink
when he shouted — just shrugged, let him buy me a drink.

He wasn’t good looking, I judged from the start
there was no harm in chatting — no threat to a heart
already in pieces — I hardly thought twice —
he seemed almost brotherly, normal and nice
with a kind of old fashioned, naïve sort of charm —
then he touched me and lightening shot up my arm.

Well, I wasn’t prepared for the frisson — the shock
sent my hormones in orbit, I felt my brain lock
and my throat went so dry that I gasped like a fish
hauled out of the water and numbed by the bliss
as his mouth fused on mine, made the circuit complete
and my body lit up from my head to my feet.

It was just the one night — ships that pass, nothing more —
the sheets filled with static, his power surged raw
as I wasted his energy, drained him of heat
then left while he slept — slipped out to the street.
Can’t remember his name but I dream of him still —
the sex was electric, so maybe it’s Bill.