Taste

You think I am the summer you anticipate every winter,

you spend each day inhaling every dust and air I inhale

restless and tormented, you wait for next summer

Your cheap mascara gets all smeared

every time you write goodbye letters to me

but deprivation empowers you to keep going.

The heat of your blood sets to boil

over your unrealized memories of me:

the landscape of your body in languor,

you can’t even beg any more

I’ve never told you you’ve sometimes looked at me

in ways that could have changed things.

Your mind —

running everywhere to every

corner of the earth and sky

rioting at my door.

Stuck in Colombia, I pretend I don’t hear you

like some kind of an abstract perceiver of the world

And every time I think of you while I’m fucking her

I fuck her harder as if

I blame her and I want to punish her

for loving her instead of you.

You taste what I taste

You read what I read

You hear what I hear

Do you taste her too?