January 2004 / Volume Five / Issue One
Tony R. Meda
as I awake
disillusioned by the heat and sunlight
unsure of where I am
I notice her next to me
no sense of guilt

been awhile since waking in this city
we begin speaking
something about perfect forever
I am sweating
she begins to fan me down
I appreciate, still unsure of meaning

watching her roll over
I notice the small of her back
gently curved, etched, and designed
think about this past before
she is the one that after our lips separated
told me to go and find utopia

together we now lay
our bodies once exposed
now only the small of her back
I lay in corduroy and last night’s attire
only socks removed

proud that she is still not another bedpost wound
she had always been replaced   
out of intuition and circumstance
never once becoming a mistake
and now the small of her back is in front of me
I am listening to her breath
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