By chris
Date: 2009 Apr 26
Comment on this Work
[[2009.04.26.11.12.4795]]

(Like Butter)

Her thighs
a path
to everlasting summer - always wet,
always waiting, anticipating
lightning, cloudbursts...
Her eyes two signs
along the miles
I'll walk...
Her style
classic, hot -
a cherry red Impala riding low on a
West Central
Friday night -
neon and still-warm asphalt and a
moon rising over a mesa.

...And in the way she looks at me
I see the white flames of
the sun, the blue black
of deep space,
the life beyond death, dried rose
petals in the April wind,
a held breath.