when I slide my hand up
I can feel him tensing, bracing,
and then all of it shattering
when he crumples into a ball of laughter

and at the end of it all he tilts his head
when he does that I always know
what he wants and we kiss,
the images of earlier hilarity
the tickle attacks, the ruthless invasion
of prying hands and sleek fingernails,
having faded instantly.