he always calls me by my given name
whenever he finds himself back in town;
mariela on the dotted line,
mari in the moonlight.
ella if he's feeling smug,
bunny when he's looking for God.
he knows my history is shaded with blue,
marred by narrowly-won home-front wars.
everything about me reminds him
of Heaven and sweet, honeyed beaches.
sandy cheeks from moonbathing, ****,
by clyde's stagecoach motel on the coast.
barefoot and manic, he tastes like sugar
and complements the *** on my tongue.
green-eyed with envy, but he's sweet
enough to make my mind grow hazy
with the lust of a woman gone mad from her fears.
he rolls through on the tail-end of a storm
and dizzies me until the dream ends
and i find he's left me only morning dew.
he tells me i'm an angel, lazily smoking
cigarettes while he lounges, gloomy, by the pool.
sunshine bikini singing sailor songs softly,
cool in my gold hoops dancing between
his open thighs, signaling gamine doom.
he's larger than life, starry-eyed,
reading me poetry against his olive chest.
i could die here, i know this, listening
to the gentle tune of his heartbeat.
he tells me he'll love me only until tomorrow,
but i'm not so sure that's the truth.
when the playdate ends,
when the sun dies slow,
when my love goes home
i'll awaken,

but not just yet.