People bake brown in San Antonio
Striding  sweaty and sticky,
******* through the city.
But you like apples so you must like
San Antonio all sticky and sweet.
You're baking crispy
Callousing your soft hands
Bouldering and baking in the city
I don't know about Texas but I know I like you.
Tornadoes rip through cities in my dreams.
I try to warn people in my sleep,
I'll call out to my empty apartment
"The tornadoes! Be careful."
I bet your crispy, sticky, sweet hands
would dry out my dreams as you
brush over my  forehead.
I bet you'd tell me to go back to sleep
There aren't any tornadoes.
I keep thinking of you.