[in these languid days of summer break, despite drizzling wet and occasionally cold weather, i remembered this poem from a couple summers ago]
WARM FEET
in the quiet night / i hear you leave so i follow
the tile is warm from your bare feet / the seat from your bare cheeks
as if you are sat below me / a different dimension joined
by our butts and soles / i’ve been waiting and piss forcefully
squeezing out every drop / so i don't piss my pants later
in a coughing fit of spliffs / so thirsty dry heat
i drink iced water by the pint / and piss constantly
even one sip / the slightest twinge
but i've had my last spliff / for this night it’s alright
my heels’ skin hard taps each step / while delicate arches hold me up
your heels are soft smooth / immune to cracks or callus
i imagine steps on gravelled ground hurt / your entire foot is an arch
my love you are an arch / strong and humbly purposeful
i may lay an arm across you / i may tuck myself back into your back
in bed my feet angled away / ashamed of rough rock edges
but the tile was warmed by your bare feet / and i've joined you to my soles