Holiday in Spain

I sit with him on a high school bed of hearts and flowers, with my stuffed leopards and bears claiming their territory of half the domain. I look at his ash wood eyes and smile at his little boy lips wondering when he will finally outgrow his boyhood. I wonder if I want him to.

Take my hand and lead to me Spain where we will sit in sunsets and drink in the auburn nectar to the scent of tequilas. We can roll down the windows of our small car as we rumble down the quaint brick alleyways I've always wanted to see and play reggae music swimming our hand through the air.

You can buy me a salsa white skirt that twirls in my tango as I stick flowers in my hair, letting half of them fall back to the ground. Buy yourself that Spanish dancer suit and I'll click my heels in frantic circles to the pulsing beat. We don't know the dances and we look like tourists but that's OK.

I want to run through the daisies at springtime and run my hand through the blossoms until the air is so clogged with the scent that I can't decide whether to sneeze and giggle. Hand my hand and try to keep up, these bare feet have bared gravel and twigs and can fly with the wind. Run, Run, Run, till your heart threatens to burst and you forgot what breathing feels like then fall with me unto a bed of crushed petals and laugh. Make this cliché movie moment with me until our credits roll and the very last person exits the theater, unable to reason why they should stay any longer. I'll close my eyes and hold you until all I can taste is this moment and all I can smell is your life.

We tango on the bed sheets till morning.