I wake on planes to see greybrown desert land undulate beneath me
shreds of hazed-out clouds, sun breaking through and breaking up
coming and going, and that last time—
the smell of you and your weight on me and your mouth kissing me
hard, hard in a new different way, and the pleasure and focus in your eyes
—I can't forget it, it won't leave my mind, my cells. I wake to
that odd light, I'm hurtling somewhere now
and still you're inside me and my mouth is
being pressed down by yours and the whole world seems to be turning
like a snowglobe, all the various parts of me/you drifting
in a liquid time that seems to be pulsing and mixing and everything falling
floating around me soundlessly
nothing above and nothing below.
