: and i like it

tight teeth
and a hand raised in the distance
a full tank and a paper cup filled with jewels

legs crossed
your sleep dented cheeks
and the faintest smell of hot sugar somewhere

cigarette smoke
from foreign tongues
always bargaining for the understanding

heavy bags
but barefoot on magnetic beaches
moods tidal and timeless as the ebb and flow

night heat
hovering scooters on sidewalks
sandy piers and souvenirs for just a taste of the land

: the renaissance lobby

tickled limbs
tensely tender atop fresh sheets
you stayed asleep, forehead gently pinched
in dream speak - i dive in.
the walls are smooth, they feel like stone but they aren't stone.
my fingers swipe the contours of the wall, which is really the floor, which is actually the ceiling, which feels like your face.
in stone-like solidity your features under my small fingers are everdom, pyramidic,
staying a little past awhile more.
when you startle, i wake; when you wake i am still
here.

: yalla

this is contact
two on one, one on two
none on none.
this is the bridge, this is the snake trail, this can be
distant but
the immediacy is inevitable. what is an aching organ
and how does it continue to fool the self, to fuel the self,
to find the final fall line and just
look and linger there, the last sliver of moonlight that looms
longing.