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walk n breakfast

was it morning
or the touch of your skin against mine
that reminded me of yesterday
in carmel

sidewalk cafés and coffee clouds
sounds of daylight peeling back last night’s sunset
packing it away in the side pocket
of a brown leather case

we lay in bed
swallowing laughter like cinnamon rolls
devoured and left sticky on our fingers
conquered by the incinerating heat of passion

your skin always amazed me
the way you wore it, even in morning
when i traced it with eager fingertips
like drawing clouds and sea bound fog

that magic was neither morning
nor was it carmel
enchanting is you, how you moved
when you thought i was not watching

but my eyes always undressed you
in carmel or san francisco
and when the winds swirled around you
i fed you chocolate

cotton-thin clouds were never ours to hold or keep
oh, but we loved them
and when laughter was to be found
our clouds were there

now i wonder, was it morning
or the touch of your skin against mine
that caused me to think about yesterday
and the feather-like touch of clouds we never owned