Damn these damn
hours between me,
you. Cities and deserts
and hours and hours that widen
like dreams. And dreams that narrow
like bridges. And seconds
endless as all of Texas
lethargic and thick
under the dogday heat.
Hurry.
What matters is to be
inside the prayer of your body,
beneath the wings of your eyes,
the chuparrosa hummingbird being
in the man flower of your
sex.