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i want to lick and kiss you

at the nape of your neck,

the seam where your hair

meets your skin,

like Texas corn fields meeting the sky;

 

i want your fingers to leave bruises

on the backs of my thighs,

small plum smudges

as a sacred souvenir;

 

i want to make love to you outside,

with the Southern sun beating down

i want to make

the mockingbirds call out in danger

and your old hunting dog howl;

 

 

i want to know you in every sense of the word.

 

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i really think

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