Big Sur

she's driving down Highway One
with the backseat full of newly purchased wine bottles
she's been at this a while,
gliding through the turns
with his hand rested on her thigh

she can barely keep her eyes on the road
with the beauty of the coastline in sight

you're watching her

you're tracing the lines of her tiny hands with your mind
you're watching her lips purse and pout
you want to pull down her skirt,
bury yourself between
and still be able to watch the sun set over the ocean

she knows you're thinking these things
as she opens her legs slightly
and the skirt rises a bit
you see her freckled thighs
still tanned from months before

we are sun-kissed lips
and faerie wings for eyes
as we gnaw on our fingertips
to keep from touching

we have been here before,
without one another
in a life that doesn't matter now

there is nothing to tell that will make you love her less
her name is the falling snow on a February morning
and your hands are a carved pumpkin glowing on an October night

we are somewhere new
and we are dancing.

Reviews

[Theresa C Newbill]

This is a gorgeous write! I loved it! I loved the voice, and the fact that you took me there, made me feel, everything! Awesome:)

[Little Abbey]

Very nice!

[RAWR!]

very nice :)
i really liked this poem, and i totally love how it ends.

[Letemdangle]

The way you wrote this made me feel as though I was going up and down the hills.

[Robin]

I love highway one and Big Sur , this piece enlivens many of my own memories ~

[Saraplenty]

Wow. Just....wow. I want to go to there.

I think you have become one of my new favorite writers.