Too easy I forget
That life is real,
That you are real.
Though I parse your outline,
Squinting close for detail,
Sight’s dry and not enough.
Your voice explores my head
And finds direct connection
To my brain; but there it stops.
I touch you, yes,
As fully as I can,
And that is very good.
But nothing equals this,
Nothing hits so hard,
Rushing through my flesh
Out to the pulsing ends of me,
As the odor of your skin,
The precious odor of your skin.
©2008 John I. Blair
