Sugar Cane Juice

Your past,

Swirls around me,

Licks my toes and disappears

Like froth, that piggybacks on waves.

Your past,

Blows salt through my hair

Small crystals, armor plate my ears

From sounds, which are neither you, nor I.

In some parallel place

Your past has us pouring over poetry by night

Riding the last train home,

Drunk, on sugar cane juice.

In some parallel place

I’d know your beardless face

Trace metal in our blood

As we walked around the abyss.

In some parallel place, you return home

Lie awake and wonder

How it is you can smell me on your skin

When we had not even touched.