I like warm rock
that trembles with your weight
as I press against your bones
in the moment of our need.

I like the cemetery rain
that dissipates the crowds
yet leaves us clinging in passion,
then washes the lust off.

I like the errant fragrance
of blossoms blowing in the breeze
that then touch upon the ground
as gently as you take me on your knees.

I like the moment of impulse
that shakes the whole damn earth
when you appear for me just so—
as innocent as birth.