I booked myself into the same hotel. For a moment I’m sure I smell you.
Not your cologne. The flesh of you. The skin on your back, that night,
felt brand new. We had crossed the intersection. I don’t recall stopping
but the tall city stars arched over us. You leaned in and the prayers
inside my head felt answered. It was like you had snuffed out the life
of the city and buried it in your eyes. My lips twinkled for you.
Your hand glided from the back of my neck – down into the ridge
worshipping my spine. I was ready to become a contortionist for you.
My only wish is that I knew how to talk to you. I had all these things
twinging on the tip of my tongue like my dad passed away too!
but before I could utter the words it was six am and the deed was done.