Sand.

Blue to the line drawn by sand, I’m drifting in Stevie Nicks’ contralto, wrapped in oblivion.

You are pleasure,
Sky.

Your arrangement, bright to midnight, with sun setting to darkness all over me in amber orange. Dunes brush soft, my toes. You, heavy and warm across me, touching sun-kissed skin where the water stops, and you take hold. Your tight space,
Me between,
Ocean,
And you,
You,
Swallowing me,
Whole.

Between Jerusalem and Mexico, a taboo love.