You are laid back,
dusky shadows fall
across your nakedness.
Your hand wraps loosely
a Cuba Libre whose
clink of ice against the glass
keeps perfect time with Coltrane.
I glance away for a second to ease
a sensation in my belly,
thousands of moths begging to
be freed so I breathe in the scent
of biting smoke floating soltly,
out and away.
I want to take you with me,
to a restless creature sleeping
at the feet of caves.
Its waves a marvel of slick sea lions lapping
the foot prints of decadent lovers.
art borrowed from Frame Pool