Hawaiʻi Sonnet 61

awake with that sweat and the suede
smell of you, my eyes wide as I realize
I should have asked, if I don’t follow you
where I do ever again taste your wine red tongue
or hear that quiet humor of our wrestling times
your whispers, words that still glimmer beside me
and too your touch, a finger circled stroke of memory
in my imagination, dream that you’re right here
constant in all ways, but always somewhere else
and then I’m lost, turned around, so dizzy
that maybe all our music played back then, makes
some sense now my steps have memorized the pressure
of these decades, long textures of our fading footsteps
each of us gone upon a path not taken by the other

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