Cigarette smoke and cleaning products
perfume the stairwell,
Head down,,
down down the black ledges to pavement,
where nips
blue desert air.
Descending Bariloche’s version of Lombard Street, and
entering the cafe,
a wood table for two seats one.
Segafredo Zanetti, and
leather placemat stitched in white
frames a paper notebook.
Beyond the glass,
exchange insatiable kisses
beneath red and blue road signs,
rubberbanding back to each other
following separation of a single step.
Hunger to touch,
to reestablish presence in form,
the gift of grounding through skin
meeting skin~
Such delicious reminder we inhabit bodies,
in this moment,
in this place,
the rest, forgotten,
without meaning.
The searching, the grasping, the holding on,
it’s dirt in the wind,
diesel, hips on the rose,
and the holes in which we stumble,
Celebration in a glance~
stay close, there is more..