'have the memory
of your warm
skin in my
hand,
got the
vision of
blue sky
and dry
land.'

(and your
body will be
my bed frame)

i read your lines in everything,
hidden words that hide between the pages.

'Undress. Take off your clothes. Take off
your body. Hang them up
behind the door. Tonight we can go deeper
than disguise.'

WINTERSON

before the tide covers.
you can read the headlines of life in the classifieds.
or in the tide.
depending on what you're looking for.

my intuition is faded in the folding lines and torn at the corners,
an overused map where one place is never in the same place.
but it has navigated me through conversations with the kind of precision
that you only find when you take a wild leap.

'maybe just a badly lit diner somewhere...'

i remember because the look in your eyes made me burnburnburn from the inside out.