Friday, April 2, 2010

The taste and smell of you




Old Barn Wood, Mud-Caked Denim & Strawberry Juice

The scent of her
fig and earth
mudflat and peach
She turns on her side in the gauzy morning light
legs twisted sideways, open slightly
atop damp sheets
the scent of her
steel-toed boots and mud-caked denim
fresh-picked berries soft
like a lazy morning smile
and nice, warm everything
squeezed in work-roughened hands
his
dripped ever-slowly on a warm June day
yesterday
through a veil of cheesecloth.
The scent of a woman
is ripe mango, machete-split
and eaten naked beneath
the tree on Tuesday
He reeks of juniper sap and old barn wood,
flame-scorched meat
hers
cool, dry wind as it blows across
purple flowering sage
She spreads her thighs
shamelessly
the scent of her
fresh-picked lemon thyme
and the waves of sea
Dungeness brine
love drunk on Pinot Grigio and butter
hers
Then his tongue finds it there
unexpectedly
ripe fruit exquisitely
saved from
the mashing,
strawberry juice
fresh from the field

_____________________

The wind is beginning to howl. Wind makes me horny. As does, um....pretty much everything except mean people, whiners, and Dick Cheney. Rain is splattering the windows. I'm listening to Hank Williams radio on Pandora. The weather and the music makes me think of the ocean. When I was a kid, I loved going out crabbing with my Dad. We'd haul in pots full of delicious Dungeness....hard work but worth it. We'd boil them up at the dockside crab cooker and take them back to the rented beach house and gorge ourselves on fresh Pacific crab dipped in butter with plenty of hot bread. Nothing like it, on a stormy day at the coast.

Dungeness Crabs live in eel grass beds from Alaska to California. They have quite the sensual mating ritual. The boy crabs are attracted to potential lovers by pheromones present in the urine of the girl Dungeness. When he finds a likely lover, the boy hugs his girl in a "pre-mating embrace" that can go on for days. The girl is tucked beneath him, such that her abdomen faces his and their heads face each other. They can mate only after she molts, and the girl signals her readiness by pissing on or near his antennae.

Pheromones are so cool. As are crabs, oceans, and good lovers.



Happy Friday and launch of yet another weekend. Crack open a crab, a beer, and your lover. Let the wind make you horny. Don't be shy. Have some good, Friday fun.

3 comments:

Erobintica said...

Oh! Wind makes me horny too! My husband thought that was so funny when I told him that about 7-8 years ago (for the first time).

my WV word is hyspes

most definitely

Craig Sorensen said...

Sigh.

I love the wind. Yes, it get's my motor running. Why else would I love my wind chimes so?!

Lovely, sensual poem. Such wonderful flavors and aromas...

But come on. Give it up. Doesn't Dick Cheney get you revved up? Just a little?

Just kidding.

Have a great weekend.

Gina said...

A Dick is a terrible thing to waste.....so sad :-)

Love you guys -- and so thankful there are people in this world who understand the wind-body connection!

We're at Shanna's retreat this morning, drinking strong coffee and cooking up the pepper bacon!