Being With You

Being with you in woods, in cars,

in narrow beds of arthritic old women.

Being with you, the sweet smell of summer,

your mouth,

like returning after long good byes to leaves turned upside down

in the wind.

Being with you,

behind your amber eyes,

long rope of velvet fingers,

time so small I can slip this silver band through it.

Being with you like being coy, like

being insane and stripping all my clothes off in the wind.

Inside me like water in a conch,

a star in the universe,

being with you.