All Day, In Love

There are humans waking up today
in love, sleepy smiles, sliding skin, lips wet with still
dreams, pale thighs, un
refusing.

Remind me what it feels like?

Running wildly through a seething summer
rainstorm, splashing up sentiments,
of past lovers, dancing in a puddle the size of
Denver. In the baking city streets are
people still like poems?

Sad innuendos, cool alliterations, caving metaphors that
unbuckle all but the most
determined among us. Do we not fall in love
with these passing faces, even for a second?

Floating by like dandelion duff, humans,
eclipsing some of the worry of living,
thick with their own personal forests; individual
worlds, spinning,
desiring, to crawl inside,
turn over leaves, dig in the dirt
of one other, dip our toes in those salty
rivers—the ones with the current so fast
it begs.

Meanwhile, the bees continue their rhythmic tango
from one soft, precious flower to the next.
Life goes on. But even the weeds
suffer from too much growth, all this wetness,
expanding, loosening...in the burn
of the sun the skin actually tightens, a
hard shell, it crawls off the body,
onto another
(sometimes any other) who will
accept it in one soothing cool embrace as
his or her own.

Remind me

(the light reflected in a mad whirl, that
lingers all day, in love)

what it feels like?