Love Under the Quick Weight of Life
After you went to bed early, wilting
but I saw an orange sun sink into a
violet blue lake and I took
a photo to show you
if you want it—it was just the hopeful
air hovering
above the water
and it was only a realization to me that
I’d rather share those moments with—
aren’t they yours?
—you or not know this
part of the world at all
and up from under the surging lake water
up from these scattering currents of my core
I spoke and said to myself:
this sun sinking into the water is nothing
like lying nude in bed with you, hand
drifting about the small soft skin on your back
goose down over our warm brown bodies,
plumb parallel in bending pleasure, tender tired
thighs twined together beside half empty glasses of water,
listening to some white whirling squeaky slow
fan blades and squirrels
run across the roof when you wanted
a young writer from the lone star state 