Nutmeg and Crab

hailing from the island of spice,

you get a better me,

in a post-war life- the Marshall plan has done me right,

installments of your sincerity, laid bare on my willingness to keep moving,

we are prospering left and right,

and

you can’t resist, and neither can I,

we are an explicit reggae song

and you know how good I am with that.

Island spice, with a Maryland base

the Grand Canyon

soon under us,

it’s a new story,

of things unimagined together,

together.

Silver Linings

He says his father is the greatest man he knows,
Which makes me smile when he says
I’m incredible,
And he laughs
Because I tell him I love his golden skin in pink,
And that he works too much.
He says that makes me just that much sweeter.
I remind him of my injured wing,
“Project management,  remember,” he says…

“I got this.”

The Inevitable

A third of red later,
Zap Mama.
Badu.
Seu Jorge.
Jah Cure.
Wednesday night
Extends its boundaries.
It is spring in the fall.
A new muse is here.
And
It is permanently morning.

Second Wind

Sweet sunrise,
On what is to come.
A repacked self,
The undone
is done.
Wearing perfume
And it smells like life,
Inevitable mornings,
In defiance of night.
A whiff of goodness,
And I’m high on sincere,
A long gaze forward
and a present without fear.

Cosas Part II

a half-marathon holding hands,

a stolen kiss

as bikram ended,

a ride to nirvana

on I-75,

we were present,

our love

fresh,

alive,

as we sat on the balcony,

and listened to zouk,

fish and batata,

cilantro,

we cooked.

Lingerie

in black

turquoise

and lace,

brown-skin,

dark lips,

your hands,

my heart-shaped

face.

Foreign films

and the Moth,

barefoot me,

and

African

cloth.

Sundays wrapped

in rockers lyrics,

cosas upon cosas

that have now just drifted,

away.