Remember how our tongues swam

like two eels playing Twister?


How the sidewinder in my mouth

would slither over your collarbone

across the dunes of your chest

only stopping to savor the tips

of your pink mountain peaks.


Remember the way my taste bud painted ship

sailed the tender waves of your ear

and slipped into your Bermuda Triangle

only falling short of the butterscotch

flavor of your thoughts.


You used to tag my face leaving

lipstick graffiti, and open the drawbridge

above my chin, painting wild streaks across

my enamel planks with your two cherry

soaked paintbrushes.



But now, your teeth’s mud flaps are as distant

as the rings of Saturn, and sometimes, at night

I use the telescope in my skull to magnify

them just enough, to toboggan down your

strawberry slopes with the index of my finger.

3 thoughts on “Twolips

  1. hey pat – nice to meet you – this was just a delicious read – i love how you use metaphor in such an exquisite way – and yep – would be cool to hear you read this..

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