At a cabin, we engage in soft

conversation with pithy introductions.

Our tongues roam as travelers

without warning signs,

leaving no crease untouched;

we lie over crimson wine,

releasing euphoric sighs,

and the fireplace whipping crackles

through passion and shades between

our bodies, sweaty, nude

as an excuse to steer our lips,

blindly sealing word-for-word,

for life or death, whichever

crosses the West Coast first.

By Andy Cooper

From: United States

Twitter: AC0040