The cool crispness that falls from your lips, coupled with the arrogant masculinity of your embrace,
I imagine living forever in that sticky syrup
living on the edge of the surprising things about you
anchoring myself to catch the pieces of you as they wittingly manifest.
I imagine watching the comings and goings of what makes you you,
Your ancient sway,
Your tight jaw giving way to a deep smile,
Your voice pressing slightly on my sensibilities,
And your palm tree like bends,
And embodiment of rhythm,
Your ability to excite with your dressed up nothings,
I’d like to have….
On record in the movies of my mind.