the salt from your hands

I remember that day I came home to you

You had roasted a chicken and it was perfect. It was a good weekend .. running to the adult store .. burning holes in my knees.. running a quick 4 miles inside you

Was just thinking of this today … wondering how I managed to leave you behind … but I know why I thought you were beautiful..

It’s cause you are

And I am not poolside .. I am running my hands along the underside of this tree running my fingers along the natural faults that exist there running my conscience along the faults and density of my regret..

took some time to think about that too..

The way I feared your father would arrive … a grown man like me

still

Thinking about you and the inconsistency of the elephants on your shoulder.. and the something these thoughts say about connection and the growth and proliferation of our natural pheromones… mingle beside me pulling your hair like a rope ladder

Those memories allow us to speak to each other in wordless ways .. and maybe I did see something.. in you that swayed my perception… a thing not seen but felt .. inside you.. behind those miles of yes

Running those miles in my thoughts, splashing the banks of my considerations

art credit: Diver, Rouzat, 1911. Jacques-Henri Lartigue. Gelatin silver print.