Coming In Color (Black and White Revisited)

My mind is empty among white blossoms.
My lips speak not of this bubble of a heart.
An attractive woman notices me anyway
and takes me as I am.

My habits flow to the sea
like American motorists on summer vacation.
The neighbors complain about our caravan
outside their windows in the early morning rain.

In blackened white and whitened black
you ride me to old tingles that used to come in color
when I came alone in storms
with a half-smile for the secret sunlight behind my clouds.

I see in your eyes you wondering if I love you
like the woman of skillful coitus loved me
the way fruit seeds only once before it dies
and populates the earth with new things to sow new gardens.

You touch me and struggle to feel alive.
I sing old songs that grasp at whatever hunger and edge I feel.
You tell me that sleeping with band dudes doesn’t make me famous.
All I want is to rewind to a hot breath hungry hands wet lips sensation.

We wish for a moment like our first time,
our hearts pounding, always like thunder,
our fluttering fingers stroking like clenched fists
fractured and poured out almost empty.

Letting go is so hard,
crashing us against bitter rocks,
hurling us bleeding far apart,
our good times forgotten amidst hostile after-thoughts.

I wake without you beside me.
I catch your scent in my hair and lose my breath.
I close my eyes and you get caught in my mind and always find your way to my—
you know where—and acknowledge me with fingers and tongue and … Wait.

No … yes. Why can’t I stop wanting you?
My cheeks flush every time I remember that which I don’t want to forget.
And there it is in black and white:
bedroom curtains flapping from a desert wind blowing doubt.

All my life I will submit … I have no respect … No shame.
All my life of hot wet rhythmic panting screaming choking—more more more.
I am this girl so dirty and smug and breathless again
holding on harder than I’m trying to let go.

“Rarely are we forgotten,” you say, “unless we’re dancing by ourselves.”
Your eyes are growing dark this time, your voice fading, your fingers slipping…
inside me—I’m singing solo but unready to dance by myself!
I let you in, you give yourself, I feel that familiar buzzing, coming in color.

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