I understand you don’t like talking sex and indoor games
when the Sun is high and the winds take on
the warmth of a kiss. Everything takes the extreme nowadays;
it’s no longer the luxury of race, religion, and politics.
But I’m bored because there’s nothing else to talk about
when the heat is high and my lips crave yours.
Our kids are in school learning new ways to take
more from the world. Do you wonder what life would
be in a century or two? There’ll be fires, floods,
droughts, and pandemics . . . oh, I forgot, you dread bad news.
You think there’ll be more love if we hope more.
We walk around and talk about paradise whenever we want;
I try to laugh loud more every time my mind
wanders away from the lair of a world beyond love.
But the heat is on and I’ve got no way
of looking away from sex, and the heat is much
and we’re afraid our bodies would rain heavily again
and the bed would be soaked and you don’t like that.
So, we sit out under the almond fanning our faces,
giggling the way foes feign smiles, thinking more of heaven
than what we feel now and will ever have. Earth.