Self-Portrait at 26

Take the pith from the orange 
As I watch the land ice fanning out 
Like an ancient afternoon
Swimming through this intermezzo
I could paint you in Cythera
With indefatigable eyes
A vital, muttering red born from 
The mess I made last night 

Driving past the shisha bar
I crave you like sugar 
Like pleasure echoing in my bones
Coming back to you again
I trace my fingers over the architecture
Coiled in green pastures and fractured light 
Bruised by nocturnal fantasies 
In the angling zone like a lark in candlelight 

I throw my dirty underwear on the floor
I'm drunk again, dreaming about him again 
Lighting another cigarette again 
I wake to the mildew, to the petrichor
Throbbing like a storm in July 
I remember the serendipity of meadows 
Perfect stains and brushstrokes 
Kissing my beard like it's my first time.