Since Before You Knew How To Work Your Mouth

Since before you knew
how to work your mouth,

you wondered about life.
Intention.
The way things work.

Then she appears in front of you
a manifestation
of the answer.

You press into her back.
A bit of her hair.
A piece of her neck.

She smells like shea butter
and somewhere warm.

A place the clouds
reach toward the sky
and grab a slice of mango.

sweet, plentiful.
A vacation of sorts
from everything else.

A place your mind,
or your words,
don’t have to work so hard.

Your jaw, too, decides to rest,
nestling itself
into part of her shoulder.

Perhaps the best part
of a vacation
is being at ease.

Your legs
the rolling suitcase
that supports both
you and her.

It doesn’t matter
who you are
when you’re away from her.

Or how many people
bump into you,
following the rest
of the crowd.

What matters most

You’re secure.
She’s secure.

Your hand
around her waist.

From a distance,
those who’ve truly been
on vacation
are already
planning their next.