The smell of your leather belt was comforting--
rich and almost plastic-y, smooth with round notches ingrained
how many times have I fallen asleep on your stomach
lulled by bubbles and pops quarreling beneath the surface
your voice rolling through your legs, thick waves, I'm
hearing you through layers of mud and my ceiling watching
your big feet, awkward and knobby like hobbit toes
I'm trying to picture this in my mind so it stays, just
the other day I felt your hands for minutes on end to be sure
I knew the texture of your hair as well, soft in the back, abrupt before
your neck, the smell of you too
Pleasingly dank as if your dresser was wet, soaked in laundry soap and Yves Saint Laurent
soft against my lips as if I could roll them back and forth under your ear
pretending I'm only breathing but I'm teasing
and crying, you're leaving for
new mexico