My fingers search, flashlights, alight, light up here and here and here. Overlapping, underlapping lips and ridges, twisted sheets, swelling doorknobs, keyholes, smiles, frowns, making funny faces at me.
I weave myself in and out your branches, tied in knots my being feasts legs arms neck braids splaying. Fitting in and around and molding to your creases and arcs is the only way to know your slow dance from the inside out.
Laying in the curve between your great neck and shoulder, you shoulder my weight, the gravity of being. The wind laughs in your hair.
There is a strange math at work, symmetries only felt or possibly heard by my cheek and palm. Your resinous odor filling all cavities.
I listen to the soft crinkling of your eyes as ants make their way to camp in your armpit.