She stayed cool by the fire while I rosied with wine. Rocks reflected flames and the desert shivered. When our friends fell away to their tents she led me through soft sand that stayed with our toes. We climbed the Shala stairs.
Her hair, a poem
of clotted curls entitled
A Day at the Beach
The moon stays full and glowing here, smiling always into the spout of our thatched roof. We gathered pillows and I tucked into her on reds, purples, and golds. I became royal and she became a blessing.
The moon in Baja
is full and rich with winter
To meet it, we rise
I cupped her hips, thin but unyielding. She nodded my way down. Afterwards, she thanked me. No one does anything just for me. I kissed lips left open and tiptoed down the stairs, both of us solitary creatures, both with something to give.
A small bird tattooed
above her elbow, static
but always in flight
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