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.