Mexican sand

Your hair dark like your favourite
leather jacket;
your eyes deep brown—
a simile can’t describe.
But in them I see the endless richness
of fertile land;

like southern Mexican sand.

But a land lacking your licking I’d like to leave,
to live with the lucky few that look just like you.
Not many, just few.
Really, it’s only you.

What tears me apart is not lacking your touch,
but the fact that I like hers so much.
I know the sand we shared
won’t be forgotten;
I cherish it safely on a locket,
deep in my pocket, I lock and unlock it.

See, you’re so far, and she’s so close;
but of my heart none is the owner.
Someone like you I’ll never find,
for in your kind you are unique. I keep
our memories safely stored;
in the locket, in my pocket.

But the pocket’s far, the pants are too,
I’m close to her, not close to you;
in fact we are one, and there’s no pockets,
there’s only sex and sweat; no lockets.

I’d rocket to you if I could, I swear—
you know me, I don’t swear much.
I keep you close; not by my side;
my side is busy,
my heart is vacant.