(a motorcycle, and things i know)

wind and light rush past us, and i know
space; the difference between crossing
a distance and reaching someone. what
time feels like. but where my legs are,

where you touch me, this roaring in my ears
that never drowns your drawl - that is me,
and you. i close my eyes to feel this:
the air teasing my face, you laced in my arms,

momentum, inertia; as i will close my eyes to hear
those Spanish songs you sing, your laugh, anything you say.
always, clear, bright, i see your startling blue eyes,
the way your lips shape soft, the lines i would trace.

or open, looking into the distant lights, learning how
to hold my head up, the wild evening buffets my skin
and this is how free feels: holding on or letting go,
but not looking back; because i never want to be free from this.

from you, running away or running to, knowing what
i'm missing. i would meet you in the dry or drowning
places, or just relish this sweet ache. longing is
this hum through my body, these fingertips in my hair,

this gentle noise. miles away or against you, haunted
blissfully by your steady gaze, your rough cheek
on mine, your whisper: i would like to kiss you more,
at night.