Postcard
Lonely for sex
the light has
 
a blue fume.
We skinny dip
 
& kiss in the pool
shaped like a monkey tail
 
canal. We name
her Frieda & whisper as we move
 
so a rent-a-cop
from Cuernavaca can’t see
 
our amoebic secrecy.
O what is
 
shadow
at night if not our vast reflected
 
barbed-wired
paradise. Filthy dirty
 
like two
moon’s fugitives. What is
 
this about the Yucatan
Peninsula so you
 
feel free to be
with me? At home we fear
 
such nudity.
Here, we’re once. We like the radiance.
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