Wet Cedarwood and Salt

After J. and I had sex the other night, I
sat, naked on the bed, on the molecule rough
blanket, against the wall I still think of as
white and J. lay curled against me with his
head against my hip. And it was one of those
moments when I wished I could slip out of
my body long enough to take a picture to
remember it by. Skin and skin. He still smells
like wet cedarwood and his skin tastes like saltwater. His tongue is too large for my mouth.