The scent of the sun arose from his dusty jeans,

The aroma erotic as he stretched out on his stomach

On the coolness of the buckling kitchen linoleum.

I stretched out on his back, burying my face

In his faded t-shirt, which smelled of the desert heat,

Sun roasted rocks, Joshua trees, and the red

Martian dirt that veils the floor of this wasteland,

Staining everything shades of copper rust.

The still house baked us with its sentinel silence

Lying like sun-dried lizards with the back porch door

Open to a landscape of mountainous black rocks,

Brownish vegetation, and wilted translucent flowers,

Bombarded with relentless waves of heat.

I felt his muscles shift, his body prepare

To sigh, I held my breath, and when he breathed

I think I cried into his back, trying

To moisten the dirt on his clothes so they'd take root

And keep him prisoner wrapped within a cell

Of cotton and denim and force him to stay a while

Longer with me in our home which was dying,

Coughing up red dust and tumbleweeds

As it shrank further back from the road each day.

Finally when he left, I hated myself

For crying, and I hated him for seeing

Me so vulnerable. I sang to him

In shades of amber because I didn't know

How else to tell him that I loved him, his eyes

Had been like a two-lane highway rollercoastering

Through the canyon at night. I wanted to wipe

The sunset from his eyes, his final kiss

Had left me un-alone and enfolded

With his scent, long after he'd passed by.