autumn mix

when the wind squirrels its way beneath the
fallen leaves,
and jack the big-dicked boy
lies naked on his back and feels
the wind on his nipples, toes,
and throat,
there are moments of pure
joy inside jack's sweet
sexed-up brain,
and as he lies there on
his back naked, the wind
sliding and gliding all over him and
stirring up the autumn leaves
strewn all around,
jack sighs and makes sucking
movements with his lips,
breathing in the autumn
wind, breathing in the
rich ripe scent of fallen
leaves--one of them flits
against his left nipple,
and at that exact moment,
jack knows the fingertips
touching his own big smooth cock
are not really his own, but
owned by the wind,
the leaves, the forest,
and that's the moment
when jack spurts cum
and whimpers with
melancholy joy,
just like a crazy mixed-up
lover, just like
a sweet sexy sexed-up autumn-crazed
boy.

--Carl Miller Daniels (This poem -- "autumn mix" -- was published in Swell e-zine, October 2006.)