watch the sun crest it, fall at my hands out stretched
as i look up her dress and see trees bent and bowed by sleep
wash them in gold streaks my hands, washed in gold leafs
if i loved a woman like a dirt road wrapped around a mountain
traveled and smooth grass growing in between the tires tracks
i would run my golden finger across her belly button potholes and pores like mine
and laugh at her crooked teeth like mine and she would laugh at my cave like mouth
standing with no one watching
sitting by the mailbox
waiting
my hands smell like spray paint
shinning in the glow of traffic
(dramatic pause)
-r.w.g.