On a hot summer afternoon,
on a secluded road;
I stopped him for a ride.
Like anyone else,
Even his demand was obnoxious.

But today, looking at him,
I couldn’t bargain much.
As if I really wanted to take that ride,
not because of the weather;
but maybe not to lose sight of him,
even if it was for that span.

I sat right at his back, centrally placing myself;
His reflection was clear in the rearview.
On his sun-soaked, tanned skin,
The sweat was glazing, grabbing all the attention.

My eyes were following his sweat trails,
and part of me was already submissive to him.
I’m sure the loo winds were unbearable,
which entailed him riding only in his vest.

The lustrous little drop from his forehead,
gliding down to his eyelids;
muddling his concentration on the road.
But my eyes followed the rest,
that drifted through his Adam’s apple to that hairy, chiselled chest.

That only unkempt and damp piece of cloth on his body,
and the smell of his manly fluids,
made that ride conspicuous.

Even without the realisation of time,
I reached my destination.
My ride had concluded without a conclusion,
but I will culminate it in my yearnings.