Intelligent Sex

She wanted to know if I could taste a three or see the color of birdsong. And I said, “Have you looked inside my brain?” I hear the heat and dark of coffee calling on my tongue—threes taste of Crossroads at midnight, and birdsongs are rainbowed. All right, I didn’t say any of that. But I sure was thinking it, and that has to count, right? What I did do (say that thirteen times fast) was craft a poem with my answer in it:

“Intelligent Sex”

His grin tastes of wicked books
flirting in a library
made of whiskey and dance.

“May I feel your thoughts?” I say.

His eyes touch my hips with a Yes,
oh yes!
that is all passion-
flower and maca root to my ears.

Are you mine? I feel him sing.

I let him taste the answer
in the arching of my back,
in my pulling of his hair—
I am woman, my skin screams,
I am all mine. But I share
when I want…

…and right now, I want

intelligent sex,
red-scented… tasting of Jazz—
aphrodisiac

.
the wee notes…
– I first wrote this poem as a haibun, but it didn’t feel right. I trimmed the prose and created line breaks, but left the haiku untouched—that bit felt just fine. And in case you didn’t notice, I should point out that this was a freaking blast to write.
– Maca root and passionflower have been said to enhance female libido *cough*.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Synesthesia, and to Prompt Nights ~ “Women are the real architects of Society”.

Your Words Will Always Be

“It is not true that people stop pursuing dreams because they grow old, they grow old because they stop pursuing dreams.” ~ Gabriel García Márquez

Death can’t take
the tales you gave me.
Your words will
always be
part of the girl I once was,
of the crone I’ll be.

.
a
(not so) wee note…
Gabriel García Márquez was the first writer who made me admire the magic that can be conjured out of words. His novels, essays and short stories inspired me to ask difficult questions about people, about society and about myself. Decades later, I am still asking… and learning. If he hadn’t walked through The Veil in 2014, he would’ve turned 90-years-young today. I suspect he is still enjoying himself, telling stories to angels and demons… And if dying didn’t change him, he is probably terribly pissed off because Death kept him from living during this time of socio-political chaos. It’s not that Gabo loved trouble, just that his muse was so good at turning turmoil into magical realist art that made most people think.
– Linked to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads ~ Tuesday Platform.

Every time I look at this candle (thank you, Rommy!), I grin… and wonder if Gabo is also grinning at the sight of himself as “A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings”.
Happy Birthday, mi querido Gabo.