IN THE TURKISH BATH

I wish he would be younger.

Dreams,
something else, I also wish.
A youth, perhaps an athlete.
In the humid fog, I dream.

Naked I was.
Had me, he could.
Offered. Naked.
Strong hands on my tense skin.
Pushed, against -for once- hot marble.
Between his flesh and the stone,
Me ... and my desire.

My legs, from toe to top
The gentle touch.
My penis, ready to go.
Just a little more.

Naked, and exposed.
Aroused, in my imagination.
How otherwise could be?
Abandoned, when he finished and left.

Excited, in need,
I hung around:
lying on the marble bench,
water, pouring: hot and cold.
At the arches, pretending to look.

You well know,
since you also search.
In the dark we do.

None. Not a look,
Or subtle touch, a small play.
Not a chance. No game.

And the mist hides,
under mythical effects,
unfulfilled dreams.
Almost I fainted.
Or was it, the hot vapor?

Looking behind, dreaming again,
I left, and wished again.