i felt something smooth and warm the other day
like your cheek under the palm of my hand.
and you returned the favor-
a not smooth but slightly calloused left hand,
and i could have sworn
i heard the soft strings of your guitar
in my ear to match the sound
of my breath as it caught in my throat
when you brush my hair away from my neck.
your eyes are like clear water
and mixed together with mine, a sea
green ocean. you’ve got your
hand in mine, and i guess we’re going swimming.
i can’t taste you through the salt,
but i can feel your skin and see the
sea drip from your lashes.
i won’t take a poetic liberty and time this
sunset, because it was hot as hell
both from the sun in the middle of the sky
and that rough callused hand on my skin.
we’ll create our own picture
and the lighting will be better
in sun than sunset tones;
a panorama more of the beach
with us on it, than us on the beach.
because there’s something so much more to this moment than us
and something smooth and warm that i can’t see.