#3: Hot Damn

I write about dreams
About those lovelies
My experience is true.
I don’t write about
Kisses – memories
Intact in a tucked
Away and well-worn
Journal somewhere
In my brainhouse.
Hot damn though.
That kiss in the dream
Enough to wake and
Double-take me.
I remember the
Moment when lips
Permeate and breath
Sweeps our most secret
Landscapes – when the
Lumbering lifeform
Tongue wakes up to a
Dance, pulling into the
Primal intertwining.
Two heads – the centers
Of being in communion
First lead forward by
The eyes, flagged forward
By confirmatory whispers.
I remember my dreams –
I remember my days as
A lover – truly, what
Separates these two
But waking up?
Hot damn.