Memory Lane

My skin tingles,
when the souvenir of your caresses
leaps out of the shadows
as I drive past our trysting place;
tracing electric pathways on the skin.
Your body inviting as a blank page,
I write a poem on it,
with the quill of my lips and
the ink of kisses; soft strokes
in long languorous sentences,
measured verse, rhyme and meter
as you would expect,
in a lilting, mesmerizing
predictable rhythm;
but then, I jump to an immediacy
that is all so modern and free,
the unexpected eccentric strokes
on the upper case, tiny scintillating
lower case and no metre, no rhyme,
madness all over the place,
a dissembled and surrealist caress,
you never know where the sentence,
the kiss, will fall next.
For an instant, I hold you hard
close against me; but all too soon,
the car goes beyond memory lane
-now you are no longer there
I softly let go of you.