i spent the morning sipping coffee, curled up with Billy*, my favorite lover.
to be fair, everyone is my favorite lover in the moment, including myself.
spontaneous and fresh
his words moved through my bones like espresso jazz fused with kundalini
i kept him on my tongue while the light grew from warm to neutral
and the grains of the day slipped through the neck of morning
i was paralyzed to all other tasks
his talent to romanticize so delightfully distracting
not romanticizing in an Ovid-esque way of course
but rather unearthing the majesty of cracked wood
there is beauty in the cracks, he tells me
our lives are unfinished floorboards collecting dust
they are not evenings spent at the Adriatic Sea
and, even if they were, there would of course still be
cracks in the sand.