I am surprised I can remember the smell of you how sweet and fresh and neon like the space that was filled by it how close our faces stayed how long did we last how I didn't want to leave how we could have stayed and grown filthy like your floor if we had remained our mouths may have done too much my teeth may have turned the color of your hair your skin may have become layered
your bones should have crushed mine but instead we grew supple I thawed like ice you floated down me mud mixed into the water bears and elk bathed in us and the surface became clouded with dark fur and foam you sunk your head and tasted the blood of the elk and the ***** of the bear I remember your hands were still smooth and soft and I was not afraid but still shuddered like a tiny animal
the east path cut out through the blackberries and nettles leads back there so does the trail of raisins from the south and the thunder clapping coordinates from the north
I gathered my things and headed west where I won't feel the porcupines on your chest or see the dappled forest floor in your eyes the river coursing through this place has no elk or bears the lips of the boys here taste of smoke and wet cement
now I remain clean alone nestled in my own beauty like a goldfinch preening not one of the fat sparrows that hopscotch on these sidewalks
I know what you're doing I know her eyes are growing crusty your hands make knots out of her hair your bodies grow tired from the rhythm of pressing together her feet are bigger than mine her smile glossier you will not find otters living behind her ears
Perhaps I will see you anyway in the winter I will wear a charcoal snowcoat you will lift me from behind and I will squeal in surprise and delight
Outside my window people sing hymns on the street.