I watch his eyelids flutter in the early morning
hours. Dreams of technicolor magic
beneath his olive skin.
Today may be the last time it is like this.
Rainy LA morning
and the east coast blues
is calling me back to NYC.
How I wish I could hold us, freeze
us for hours upon hours and take in
every crevice of his flesh,
every angle of his moonshine. Hold
him on my tongue, like summer dew.
Stillness, divine stillness.
Us and a California rainstorm.
