I like them bronze-hair men with earth-speck eyes
Whose sand paper chins smooth my inner thighs.

I like those long-length limbs whose curvature
Is wound with rivers feeding in to shoulders.

I like them button-size outies flat against
Taught tummies whose crisp lines lay rows criss-cross.

I like those thin slit dips hidden in cheeks
Length-wise across a wide stretch smile whose teeth

Clank with windblown chime when struck with mine.
I like those patch-work pattern legs in dress

of wire-spring hair, leaves bare growth behind knees.
I like those toothbrush bristle eyelash strokes which never

Mislead, unlike them damn conversations
Whose best words break surface the worst of scenes.