sofaSource Image

She looked up from the table and smiled at me. I smiled back, “Hey!”  I set my backpack down in the office.  “I was thinking -” Interrupted as I turned to see her launch into a hug.  The cross-haired lines of her landed hug rippled across the folds of my cotton shirt.  Caught dead to rights, I opened my arms to catch her.  Light sparked at the fingertips, from the connection points of our bodies.  The sound jumped by levels, from her heart and into my ear, as we fell backward and floated down to the sounds of audio pleasure poured into her ear, whispering what she loves to hear.  Spiritual treasure troves, musical notes, some jewels she could use, if she chose.  Deducing her pedigree, her request I couldn’t refuse as I froze.  Becoming aware of her role, a certified queen, a baller, a boss.  Never dwelling on a “L,” never a loss.  Her swag – so supreme painting the skies purple Ross, with crystal flaked, freezers.  Beware, if you’re prone to seizures.  Her shine emits rainbows, refracted by prisms on her ears.   But she ain’t blinging ice, she blings science, acquired ancient, old school knowledge.  Her crowning achievement; Her aura tinted with the gravitas of her presence.

She ain’t gotta convince you her life is unreal.  Spending time with her, you catch that feel, the movement of your soul, the moment surreal.  She ain’t gotta gram post.  The people she loves held tight, held close.  No need for an audition tape on 8mm reel.  She’s bona fide, the real deal.

Drink it all in for free, but don’t gulp it, savor it. Hold on to it, just take little sips.  Gillespie cheeks pushing molecules through harmonic lips.  I can separate it from her energy.  I can feel the track moan, aural tone, plucking the guitar bones, eyes dilated, head back, in a straight zone.

Billiard molecules banging off the eardrums, tuning the frequency.   She bounced on the amplitude.  She said, “Close your eyes and see, me.”  Time traveling, exploding in a Big Bang as we collapse from the gravity.  Quantum tunneling, pulling us together, same time, slightly – different space, floating in place.  We are supafly, heavenly – TNT love making.  No jokes; For real as can be.

Coffee colored iris, strawberries on her tongue, she’s got sugar on her lips.  Her smile sparks the pearls, curls at the edges, vanilla scents on her wrists.  She’s dark twinkling Universe.  I paused to catch the silhouette, the curve of her hips.  The scene a painting, looking up at a brushstroke nighttime sky.  Looking back in time, we lie on brushstroke grass.  Moving in the present.  Time flies and moves fast, when all she wants to be is my rest.  A serial killah stalking the stress, of each day.  The laying on of her hands, dissolving away, the emotional rust.  Reenergizing my soul, in her love I trust.   The iso camera caught us from way up high.  Shades of grey, creased, and outlined with navy lines.

Holding each other down like we’re supposed-tah.  Minds and spirits traveling, but we never even left the sofa…

by malakhai jones
(c) Copyright 2016


  1. I really like this.The combination of what comes across as a loose iambic pentameter with the significant object of the narrative (Headphones) is a really nice touch.

    The rhythm makes it a bit unique in fiction writing.
    I really like how you’re exploring this concept. Keep it up!

    1. Thanks! I usually listen to a song, mostly a hip hop song that has a faster pace of bars when I write the more rhyming stories. So what I’m trying to do is stick a sentence in a musical bar, much like rapper, but also be redundant with the syllables you hear by repeating them in the middle or right after the ending rhymed word. Sometimes flowing them into another rhyme sequence. To tie it out to iambic pentameter evenly loosely, is giving it way more credit for following formal structures of poetry than it deserves.

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