You covered a plate with bubble-gum kisses for dessert. I smeared one with my fingers to make it real and you smiled to yourself and slid back behind my memory. Until next time I find you, new again, on the pier, or at the greenmarket, at the sea, once in Dallas. How did you get to Texas, my freshly baked beautiful Zelig? And where do you go when you leave my vision?
I can smell the cedary smokiness of your skin and taste the coconuts in your mouth. I can feel your curls twisting in my hands and your squeezy, breezy breasts oozing around my grasp. I could draw the tiny mosaics of your toes right this moment if someone asked me. But the whole of you lives tucked in between teenage dreams, fluid as mercury.
Text by SM Simões