A crisp breeze whips through us as we walk.
I look to your forearms
Each breaking out in thousands of little goose pimples.
Reddening the skin.
Your face flushes as your blood vessels respond to the
change in ambient temperature.
It turns you to a blushing man.
Your eyes go childlike and I can imagine
your childhood face, even though I have never seen it.
The one you wore when you were fresh and new.
Before you knew how time flows
and before all that time flowed you.
Back when all you knew was feeling.
Before you had knowledge, before you wanted to have more knowledge, before you needed to prove things.
Before you knew that you know nothing.
A ray of light projects itself through the grey day’s smokey cloud cover.
It reenlivens your skin tone.
And, I wonder: where were you the very first time
sunlight kissed you and
began stripping away
your skin’s virginity.
In private, I will observe your bare form.
Looking for tell tale signs distributed and
laying across every inch of you.
I will trace my fingers along and press my lips to each revelation
of how you became what you are.
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