En la llovizna con ella (Poem)

Her thin pale hands took in mine

We’re lying down on a white mattress

In La Casa Roja, the fiesta has just begun.

 

My hands are heavily worn from manual

Labor; hers are permanently burned from

Los cigarritos she tries to smoke end to end.

 

I’m wearing bright pink acrylic and her nails

Are bitten down to the bed. In that moment

I realize how high I am and the Mezcal is alive

 

Squirming through my limbs. I’m exhausted—

Running around Puebla en la tarde, en la llovizna con ella

I’m still soaked with fervor as she tangles our fingers.

 

She leads me in the bathroom.  I have to go but

She kisses me.  Her fervent lip between mine

Reminds me of smoking my bowl back in the States.

 

She lifts my bra and I feel my way in her turquois tights—

I bite her. Oblivious to the crowd outside waiting and

Banging. She whispers my name, then licks my neck.

 

We giggle like two small girls and take our piss

Washing each other’s hands.  She fixes her hair

In the mirror— our smiles cross.  We’re smitten.

 

She opens the door and I don’t see her for another week.

She’s already in love with someone else.

“I should have kissed you longer.”

 

–Luecretia, the esoteric ❤

 

From the Daily Prompt: Ripped From the Headlines

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