We drive
So you wonder why I love you.
Be tall. Be lanky.
Return to words, words and more words.
into a sacred canyon down a dirt road.
When the rains begin
(quietly, quarter-sized raindrops dancing downward,)
and small muddy rivers carve their own paths
we get soaked to the skin, staring
at the pouring sky.
We sit in the steamy car and drink whiskey.
I peel off wet jeans, he rests a hand
on my thigh
his warmth melts my shivers.
Listen: the skies here
have the power to transform,
transmute, shift, suck you out of spongy skin
and pour you into a bird, a cloud
or leave you singing, stretched tissue-fine
strung over the horizon.
When I am this close to you,
sometimes I think I can ripple
that pebbles dropped deep inside splash in my soul
and send me through limbo, thin and foaming,
lapping at your feet like waves.
Conversations with a sleeping man
Big man, Hairy-chested
and messy sometimes,
you wonder why my woman's body
does not seek another like its own
to slide into bed with,
and hold, and caress.
When you pour tea, your huge hands
shrink my white china teapot to doll's-size.
Sleeping, you toss my antique quilt
to the floor, and wrench my careful sheets
into disarray.
No, you are right: you are too big
for this room, and too rough,
and you smell like sandalwood and sweat.
When we lie together and you are drunk,
I can smell whiskey in your skin.
But you, grumpy man
who prides himself on being curmudgeonly --
you do not notice the way the morning sun
glints copper on your unshaven face
or how your pale lashes leave your eyes
innocent and unguarded.
These things make me (secret
ly) content
drinking early cups of coffee across the table,
when you think I am looking
only at my section of the newspaper.
The Lost Art of Being Aaron
When you laugh, let the skin around your eyes
crinkle like a cinnamon stick.
Eat fresh apricots, and rub one on your face
to feel its fuzz.
Spend time near loud rivers in the fall,
and return in February
when they are frozen.
Walk on ice
in heavy black boots that are cracking at the toe
and held together by tape,
and wonder.
Collect figurines,
and be meticulous in arranging them:
a tin soldier, a Princess Leia, three plastic cars.
In the evening, practice
blowing smoke rings from an old pipe
that was bought at a thrift store on route 41
for three dollars.
Remember
that surliness is an art, like raising one eyebrow.
And, when you feel the urge
become invisible,
remember our conversations
swallowed sweet like hot milk and honey,
and remember the way a tangerine
kisses your palm
as it is being peeled.