And as we cut a lazy curve of road
my nostrils filled a moment with the scent
of horses. When they come in dreams I know
To wake before I smell them. But the bend
Of road was not a dream, nor were her hands,
which, creeping from my waist down to my thighs,
made no attempt to cover their demands,
but did stop short. And when I dropped her by
her car, back in a strip mall parking lot,
the scent still clung to me, to her, and all
I wanted was to feel the steady throb
of unchecked gallop, muscles rise and fall,
And know that I could slow it with the reins.
Her horses run untethered in my veins.