Tasty Knees in the dark of touch my face pressed heavy to your head i open my eyes and see the night hair of you dark as the lightless black of a warm womb's interior, your wetness inviting touch your earth quakes, shakes and opens as my rod my staff slids across your ground though i want to scream i resolve to remain mute as a militant refusing to snitch to the improper authorities, but suddenly, a riot of joy breeches my resolve and i disperse the joyous quiet of our union with an involuntary shout loud as a bull elephant's triumphant ejaculation of course i am exaggerating, but my, my, my your knees did taste some good, yeah —kalamu ya salaam