Doug Anderson: Tucson, 1968

We were still, I think, beautiful,
even after that jug of cheap Chianti
that stained her teeth and t-shirt,
our breath combined enough to kill
an orchid. I watched her sleep.
Air thick with orange blossoms
and morning light pinged the Catalinas
like a tuning fork, awake.
Now back to her and tangle legs,
warm in the yet cool spring.
She not quite awake,
answered back with arms.
An hour or two, and then at it again,
once more before coffee,
and sorely we untangled for the day.

Copyright 2016 Doug Anderson.

Doug Anderson’s books include Horse Medicine, published by Barrow Street.