Thanksgiving in May
these things i love.
sweet love making in the morning, without opening my eyes. the smell of me on your shoulder, your neck, your stubbly chin. the way you ask me to scrub your back in the shower. the way your eyelids relax when I run fingernails and shampoo through your overgrown locks. the way you sing the same line of the first song on jack johnson's cd, over and over again until it's echoing in my brain.
other things i love.
driving towards the full moon on a back country road, especially when there's heat lighting rippling across the far horizons. my grandmother's cold wisdom. my mother's soft arms when she hugs me- the way her chest opens up as she pillows me in her embrace. my sister's light little snore and jogging feet as she's wrapped up in a midnight's dream. the way my step father always looks stoned, his happiness like a rocking hamock.
sweet love making in the morning, without opening my eyes. the smell of me on your shoulder, your neck, your stubbly chin. the way you ask me to scrub your back in the shower. the way your eyelids relax when I run fingernails and shampoo through your overgrown locks. the way you sing the same line of the first song on jack johnson's cd, over and over again until it's echoing in my brain.
other things i love.
driving towards the full moon on a back country road, especially when there's heat lighting rippling across the far horizons. my grandmother's cold wisdom. my mother's soft arms when she hugs me- the way her chest opens up as she pillows me in her embrace. my sister's light little snore and jogging feet as she's wrapped up in a midnight's dream. the way my step father always looks stoned, his happiness like a rocking hamock.