Summer Drunk

it's the heat, it reeks of his smell
the place under the collar of his shirt
and edges of his long sleeves
 
how the air was too thick for sleeping
how I was constantly intoxicated
with the hum of his voice
 
I laid in the green sun reading
his books, breathing his fingerprints
heart beats between text replies
 
the blue sky kissed my shoulders
and thighs, grass ceilings always
bracing my body from ascension
 
how I existed in the space before
you with me and without was
sleepwalking and summer drunk
 
the heat hung like a red cloud
on my back, on my heels and
here the earth comes back
 
to this place around the sun
to break my sobriety
again and again
 
5-13-13
Originally published in Lummox Journal (2), November 2013