carmel morning

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