peaks and smooth edges and a city of glass,
a man dark like urban nighttime
whose skin smells like condensation and sex.
i want a man who breathes air,
who drinks water and wine and dark coffee,
a limestone, granite man:
a man eroded like a canyon
who echoes from his lips to fingertips
and etches himself into the striations of my skin.
for such a man i could be a river,
my whole self an unending stream,
affectionately curling up in valleys and ponds
and carving my lines at the bottom of his soul.
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