Today, the breeze caresses

the field into a sea.

It is like a sheet stretched out

and held between two bodies,

a river

flowing through itself.

The grass describes a waist-high world

sought by none and so

remaining beautiful. Taking their cue from beauty,

my kisses are a fallow plot.

The image of pure desire

is never the thing itself.

Growing up, we took family

showers to save on

the water bill. Nakedness

was plain and everyday.

Now, the brief

showers are the earth

laying bare our smallness.

I shed my clothes by the junipers

and roam onward into the light

of lessons that never take.

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