and so we lay here,
swaddled in white cotton and cream:
your sensual mouth
no questions. no comments. cash on delivery. we’re a single package
wrapped in mocha vanilla paper,
the gift of Christmas in June.
and so eagerly we unwrap ourselves! and fade into one another: blurlines;
i am laughing: you ADD fucker.
you are laughing: you cynic.
I think you do;
one more kiss?
i want cookies.
…oh, yes. mm.
humming in one another (your blue veins)
we’re a two-man band, let’s hit the road together.
a sundry of sensations.
my nerve endings have nerve endings
and i feel you in every one of them.
someday, I said,
i want to meet you.
i want to find you in the middle of a crowded empty coffee shop sidewalk,
and write on your hands;
we’ll sit at a little table with french iron lacework
with our little cups of sophistication and knowledge,
discuss politics (yawn) philosophy (huh?), the meaning of life even.
and you’ll give me lollipops–
(lots of lollipops?– yes)
My tongue will change colors– fifty different colors!
I’ll speak rainbows for days
instead of goodbye,
and you’ll part from me with memories of blue trailing from your violet thoughts
while red and yellow trade places with green between your palms
as you squeeze orange through your fingers
(our thoughts are peculiar ribbons of indigo)