Forgetting Her Husband

Forgetting her husband,
she inhales the stranger's words
like pheromones.

A delicious tingle stirs,
erasing thought,
desire expanding
from pinpoint
to saturation
in seconds.

Her pulse and his music
come together,
like jasmine vines,
drunk on the scent
of their own blooms.

Tightly twisted
in a slow-motion dance
of mutual seduction,
they inch skyward,
rising,
rising,

until gravity
will no longer be
denied
and they tumble down
amidst the other vines

clinging to a rotting fence.