Sometimes we just know.
There is a stirring of debris
left dormant
that rustles and pokes us awake.
From somewhere inside the digestive system
the central nervous system
the pelvic floor.
Awaken!
Kidney and liver, pancreas and spleen
bloom open like sunflowers to receive
the gift of solved mysteries
reciprocity, reflection.
Such a simple disarming of my protective forces
that guarded against so many before.
He will never know the power
of his kindness and formidable capacity.

I watch. I wait.
Breath by beat.
Internally melting into a puddle, unbounded,
while his wake of perfumed pace
toys with my appetite,
for heat,
for wetness,
for closeness, for recognition.
A wink, a walk, a face,
so unforgettable.
Mercy,
have mercy on what is felt
but left unsaid.

From a stranger I watched intently
on crowded floors I wasn't invited to
to now breathing deeply beside me. 
He has become the ingredient of my life 
I forgot that I needed. 

I was content to admire his embrace
and mystery from afar
from the edges
from the shadows.
It was enough to touch his dark brow
with my eyes
with my heart.
It was enough that he was in the room.
I watched without moving
to steady my internal alarms.

But I got brave one day and asked: enseiñas ?
Only to lead like his musical simplicity and playfulness,
To emulate an embrace that purrs,
Help me to integrate his ways
and take back a little of him 
into my dance for the long days
that await me up north.
Attention to my heels, to my knees, to my pelvis
mate and media lunas
have come to this
somehow. 
Somehow.

He reaches for me now
and curls up
ear to my belly
trusting hand on my hip.
Totally relaxed.
The rippled hand I watched intently
as it held the hands
of queens
and curious fairies
yet found safe harbour
in me,
choosing to return
to me
again
somehow.

Long lashes
long fingers
long pauses
while tango seeps
and soars through our pores. 

I imprint this fleeting time
of blurred days to nights
suspended in a kind of 
elevated sky world
of clouded boundaries
between he
and I.
English
French 
Spanish.
Here to
there, 
in
out
my side
his side
absence
presence. 
How did it come to this?

I waited for invitations that never came,
averted gazes looking past the simple stranger.
I observed and learned
calibrating to my breath and patience.

He appeared to me feet first.
Grey sneakers against black and white. 
He needed nothing 
but his embrace
his quiet face. 
I observed, reserved, calibrating.

My gaze tried to wander
further
away
to potential invitations
but no. 
I remained still. Attuning. 

Small spaces, compact embrace, simple rebounds
and easy changes of direction.
Languid and smooth, I swooned inside involuntarily.
 
He chose petite, brunette and languid.
His own likeness. 
I understand his language in his hands, his downcast eyes.
The more I watch the less boundary I feel
between they
and i. 

Psychic empathy sparkles through my tissues. 
I start to tingle as separation between us liquefies and
my heart synchs to theirs, somehow.
I watch. I burn. I melt at once.
They finally part ways and my 
naive hope awakens with a joyous cortina.
 
But he looks past me like the others do
and there is no hope for more than
what my eyes can handle.

Is this what unraveling feels like?
Learning to unclench the pelvic floor
To give love warmly, simply, 
with trust and joy.
The seams burst,
The oil churns out with the water.
Cracked shell of
Expansion and chaos
Together in slow motion
Step by step
It must be.

A marble floor
Up 3 steps
Toward the heavens
on a raised dais
fit for ceremony.
A circular gathering space
To exhalt body and mind
In community.
The late afternoon sun
Dapples through old trees
Shining on a packed playground,
abundant with soccer balls.
Play is outside
together 
here,
Not in rented activity classrooms that parents pay for. 

My dress is flowered and old, 
Floating up the steps, fluttering in the breeze.
I feel ethereal now as I change my shoes
And prepare for communion 
Amid the neighbours
Among the songs
Of this land. 
We find each other and embrace easily, 
a stranger in a dress, a local neighbour in a linen jacket.
Entwined, united, is all there is, 
without delay, without questions. 
Gracias a la Vida
The wild feminine composer of all
turmoil, of all love.
We pull apart between songs.
I place my hands, palms together,
at my heart
grateful for one more song
in our second tanda.
I look skyward.
This is what I came for. 
He smiles broadly
and agrees wordlessly.
Mutual delight wins this day.