Poem #289 of 365

Rolling off the Santa Fe roof
and placing a bike between
my legs, the night became
younger with my sultry joy.

You had climbed off first,
off the roof of the house,
as friends were knocking
and wandering about.

As they greeted you and
joined you inside, I strapped
on my bag and took a long
ride. I passed cars of
laughing kids, and stores
with neon signs. I felt the
breezes caress my knees,
but never as nice as your
tongue ten minutes before.

I wandered into Wild Oats,
so perfectly named, and
picked up foods with
colors that would zing
in my belly, and I had
money for beers and
room in my bag, well-laden
to share with my crew.

When I coasted back
to the house, the
pad was rocking
with song and
stories, and I
pretended surprise
that our friends
were all there. I spread
out the feast and we
lapped and we laughed
at the cup of cool life
that we poured this
night and so many
nights in my summer
of Santa Fe.

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez