Taste

Once, we were backyard neighbors with a man who had a cat named Cat

In the winter, when the shrubs were all sticks,
we would laugh as we watched Cat stalk man from the roof
The man wandering his yard calling,
"Cat...Cat...Cat...Cat..."
It was infinitely amusing                                                                                                                                      

I found myself recalling that duo and wanting to laugh
as your too eager lips traveled over my sun drenched collarbone
I kissed you then, instead of laughing
You tasted of my sweat; it tasted like summer

There have been moments, periods of time,
when I have forgotten the feel of your fingers on my skin
But even in my dreams, in my deepest sleep,
I remember and yearn for your kisses
In my dreams your kisses always taste like ice cream.

Sizzling Forecast

In lava topped mesas

baked ocher in summer's heat
I see your eyes

The heat here is comforting, reassuring
I embody my mother
Stride from room to room
Opening windows following afternoon showers
The house becomes cool

It is with mundane tasks
  the small monotony of folding clothes
That I notice the passage of time
  faded lettering on college t-shirts reminds me,
I will never see him again

In the blazing, glaring, sizzling mid-July sun
I search for adjectives
Peach juice running down my face
In this heat, my fingers are instantly sticky