I have understood you. Meet me at midnight. The keyhole will be turned and my lock wide open. Meet me at midnight, you know the place: blue doors, chipped white stucco walls and brown carpet for days. In your mind, I lie undressed. My arms, shoulders and breasts dance as whitecaps among ambiguous waves. This tiny clock ticks and I see the midnight moonlight peek through tiny brown squares in the burlaps shades as I watch for sensual shadows. I have thought about seeing you in this light. Your sealed lips hover above my white ear, your voice is low and a wonderful melody whispers my name. My green eye peeks out from under the covers at the door and spies. You are not here yet and I feel your absence. I rap my gold chipped nails on the small circular linoleum table thinking about the last time I saw you here. I smell your pale razor eyes and your laugh. I think you are somewhere, bored. Something delays you from adventure as you hold yourself back, clutching your wetness, I watch the blue water rise through your neck and up into the tips of your hair. Casting my gaze at the pool of light pouring from the aqua lamp, I realize there is no soap here. This is something unclean. My virgin palm is cupped and holding you tightly when there’s a buzz followed by a red light. One push of the button and a photo emerges of a man. He’s handsome and he’s wearing brown clothes and a wide brimmed hat. The message reads, “There’s a new sheriff in town.†It’s a secret. It our secret.Â