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
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.