Stop pile up in lines, miles of lines, dotted lines and straight yellow pairs
Hilled driveways lined with perennials and ivy
to the pit of the arm and the rib
and summer carpet
Berber with sand and sweat on your feet
woven underneath the toe-prints
feeling the granules
The smell of iodine on skin, on tee shirt fabric, sleeping, burning eyes,
tasseled hair.
My favorite tank top, wet skin, bikini top pressing my sides underneath the salted weight of the day.
No caffeine, no water, but thirst in the fold.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
1 comment:
the salted weight of the day... that's all i'm saying.
Post a Comment