Erinn

I like the way she wears her hair

straight/curly/frizzy

tangled/messy/sweaty hair

bending and curling in every direction

like the wildfires that bloom

in the desert where she grew up

She always wanted to escape

did not feel at home amongst the lifted chevys

and american flags

and build the wall bumper stickers

She likes traveling to other dimensions

where the laws of physics take on new meaning

leaves her body behind on the beach

so her consciousness can travel freely

exist on multiple planes of reality

I think even in the 6th dimension

we would speak the same language

She knows how to read my invisible sentences

the ones written in my frown lines

and the anxious bouncing of my leg

She can see the way light sheds onto my retinas

the flames that burn behind my eyelids

the rage that simmers in the sweat of my palms

says I could burn the earth clean with my words if I wanted to

says my truth is blinding

but she likes the feel of the sun

and its warm rays raining millions of kisses on her skin

as she turns to soak in the morning light

She lights candles in her bedroom every night

to feel the warmth from combusting

carbon and hydrogen and oxygen

re-forming to release a new kind of energy

I want to start a forest fire with her

dance in the rising smoke with her

watch the concrete crumble with her

We could engineer a new beginning

rewrite Genesis

recreate the morning light

I’ve been thinking about the way cacti grow in the desert

the way they survive off so little water

the way they thrive in the burning sun

reminds me of the girl with wildfire hair

and the way we bloom in spite of it all

We tangle our legs together

like the atoms in a chemical reaction

tie knots into our muscles

re-form to release a new kind of energy

I know I’m not supposed to

but I love my body

and the way it breathes when I’m with you

the mountains of your cheeks against my

butterfly eyelash wings beating rhythmically in time

with the rise and falling of your chest

I am always looking for reasons and answers

but sometimes love is just the texture of her hair

and the way it blooms around her face like wildfires

bending and curling in every direction

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feral