When You Kiss Me
When you kiss me,
Forget him, her and
Everyone but me and me and you.
When you see me in the window,
Don’t see the glass,
Don’t see the hat, the gloves, the shoes,
The rings, earrings, cars, lost things of importance and no-importance—
Just see me, me, me and your own ghostly image wanting me.
When the door opens,
Feel the wind, cold and embracing and knowing you in your
Ribs, in your hips, in the indentation of collarbone,
Feel me drop into your arms—or you in my arms—
And breath in the cold that is electric with wool and cotton and hair
And now us.
When you remember, remember no day, no drama, but
Things you can’t touch or see or smell—the tendrils
Of longing and longing fulfilled that were, are and never go away—
That sometimes you doubt because all good things are doubtful,
But that you always come back to with certainly like something wonderful,
And heavy,
In your bag.
Drop all of this for me.
Under the sheets, drop me kisses and forget.
Drop onto my hips and kick off your canvas sneakers and let your dirty laces trail to the floor.
Laugh and bite and let the record skip, skip, skip, skip like we are children on the playground,
Or an old couple on deck of a sea-crossing ship.