Waking Up in Buffalo

Miles of open road,
Freshly buckled by
Bearded men in reflective vests
And orange hardhats
Finally I stretch
Over starched sheets
Twisted and crumpled
My view, the slice of
Light peaking through
Thick, rug-like curtains
Waking up in Buffalo
Was not planned
Back on the road
Only a short distance
Finally I breathe,
Noticing the fragrant blossoms
Black-eyed Susans,
Blackberries,
Wild strawberries
My senses delighted, caressed
Here I meet the lion
Smooth boulders for resting,
Pure waters roaring
Earth’s artery exposed
Untamed by destiny
Nourishment for the likes of
Me, the seeking soul
It’s peaceful in the mouth
Of this growling giant
Taking gentle steps along
The curve of its cheek bone
If it had a face, embracing
Each moment
Each mist-filled gust
Drenching me through
To the bone.

© October 2009

Temperate Tossed

Sweet, Autumn woman.
made of ginger and spice,
and you imagine how
her hands will feel
before they map
the hard line of
your chin - you
sense the warmth
of her lips before
they touch each
eyelid, and somehow
her tongue tastes of
sunshine and black
licorice. she's got
your daydreams
sequentially on repeat,
replaying every syrupy
moan and each
soft breath, thick like
maple trailing your neck.
what will you do with
this woman you cannot
touch, but with your
kindness? what will you
do with this woman,
your garnet eyes cannot
see, but with your imagination?

© October 2009