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I showered last night, this morning
Soaked and wet, my skin reveals
hand prints and movements circular and wide
recalling these flashes that beam inside my internal picture show.

your eyes dilate wide right in front of me
slivers of blue around dark black infinite circles

my mouth reaches for salty tastes the lines and marks on your skin

Hearing your stories you remark as boring, and I dive inside each one: seeing you
walking at twelve on a dirt road, buzzing sounds of insects and tall grasses
you maybe smiling or just looking off in the distant making the long haul
easier for your mind

Words fall so short in time.
they are useless for what my eyes and hands could tell you.
as they have started tatooing
movements and rhythms...
eyes and mouths making the syllables more clear
you have authored in this poem.