Descent of Two

Leather wind, checkered pulse —
I stand on the world’s last tooth.
Desert breathes below,
a silence wide as light.

She lands —
a flash of skin, a fall of trust.
We ballet on a needle’s tip,
gravity jealous of us.

We slide —
stone to sand,
sand to speed,
our bodies a blur of one.

We roll —
yin, yang, dust, dawn —
and cities rise,
forming in our wake.

Children run from nowhere.
Grass remembers how to grow.

A beach —
her skin in the sun,
my pockets heavy with enough.
Laughter, salt,
the taste of reward.

Then —
a tie, a tap, applause.
Ugly faces fall like spiked volleyballs.

A map spread wide —
hands tracing blue lines of maybe.
We build,
we build,
we build.