The Getaway Plan

After catching a glimpse of your bodies in the mirror,
I felt a sharp little shiver shoot down my spine.

Ignited by the flares of a dozen flushed nerve endings,
it aimed to find safer ground by way of my buckling thighs.

The rogue endorphins liberated themselves from my body
through a double barrel pair of charcoal tube socks.

Looking up from my smoking craters of footwear,
I watched as the distraught shiver accidentally skidded

into our newly-renovated kitchen island.
Then with a theatrical flourish of banging backdoor,

I saw it duck down a dimly lit alley,
where an ominously tinted luxury vehicle

idled by the crumbling curb,
its passenger door dangling obligingly ajar,

like the slackened jawbone of
a dumbstruck believer.