I want to ask you: <br />When our bodies touch <br />Gliding like ice in a summer day <br />Hands akin to an eye <br />Watching the moistening skin <br />That covers the length of your back <br />And breast, and buttocks <br />Against the yellow light <br />Of the shadows flirting with the <br />Incandescent lamp across the street, <br />Do you still know me- <br />The guts of my loving <br />The tenderness of the scent <br />Of the sampagita that bloom <br />In my window pane, <br />As I glide against the flesh <br />That seems so familiar <br />And yet a stranger to your memory? <br /> <br />Do the maps of memories <br />Begin to fade because the weather <br />Is so humid, and your mind is <br />Journeying to somewhere else <br />A land where your books and travels <br />Shaped a new mind, a new body, a new territory <br />Of loving: she, of pasty white skin <br />Aquiline nose that reminds me of our colonizers <br />A speech that barely touch the soul <br />Because of its strangeness <br />And possibly, youth and a more nubile body. <br /> <br />Ask me too: does this skin <br />That for many years was a blanket <br />To your sleep, a comfort <br />Like down, like feathers that lull <br />You, nearly a lullaby after a frenzied <br />Lovemaking? Please ask me <br />Because I have all the answers, for <br />Even the shadows flirting with the incandescent lamp <br />Have stayed the same, nothing have changed <br />Except perhaps you, and I have remained. <br /> <br />(2006)<br /><br />Aida Santos<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-want-to-ask-you/
