manuel of la brea

08

you scent me free

Watching Looney Tunes with you
on a big, flat screen
now changed to something new,
yet you’re busy watching me
like an opening scene.

Maybe you won’t see the hazy view
of the mountains outside.
And while people are few,
colorful umbrellas held up,
shortened their strides.

Now you’re kissing me
on the satiny sheet—
it’s raining outdoor,
right in the street,
right up on our street,
it’s raining in the room too.

You know I’m not delusional
but a ghost, upon the air,
permeates the ceiling, where
sweet and calming,
familiar and comforting,
are what I feel

like it’s some kind of
a blanket on cold day, or
a warm hug when cuddling.

It’s the 13th of July:
we’re side by side 
in the white clouds,
as you count the 13 moles
on my face, and 
you give me peace,
burning my lips
with your flaming kiss.

You traced the stars 
on my collarbone
and it left a scent there
forever
that I can call my own.

And I said my dreams are now vivid
after catching a whiff of your scent.

Oh it was a beautiful moment.

Your scent found a way
to cling to my naked body
like my favorite dress.

Your scent is like an arrow,
tearing my layers,
solidifying the thud 
of my heart.

Your scent creates a song
so we can dance together with no shoes,
revealing the marks on my feet
left behind on time

and the calluses like canyons
so clear and deep—
you saw me weak and vulnerable
yet you set me free.