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carmel morning

was it morning 
or the touch of your skin against mine 
that reminded me of yesterday 
in carmel 

sidewalk cafés and coffee clouds 
sounds of daylight peeling back last night’s sunset 
packing it away in the side pocket 
of a brown leather case 

we lay in bed 
swallowing laughter like cinnamon rolls 
devoured and left sticky on our fingers 
conquered by the incinerating heat of passion 

your skin always amazed me 
the way you wore it, even in morning 
when i traced it with eager fingertips 
like drawing clouds and sea bound fog 

that magic was neither morning 
nor was it carmel 
enchanting is you, how you moved 
when you thought i was not watching 

but my eyes always undressed you 
in carmel or san francisco 
and when the winds swirled around you 
i fed you chocolate 

cotton-thin clouds were never ours to hold or keep 
oh, but we loved them 
and when laughter was to be found 
our clouds were there 

now i wonder, was it morning 
or the touch of your skin against mine 
that caused me to think about yesterday 
and the feather-like touch of clouds we never owned 

tolbert

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