Bali High and Low

She is in the blood when I close my eyes,
a tiny image through capillaries.
I squeeze tighter, see stars,
blank places that I fill. She has her way
with me and then I am

right there on Sansur where Bali whispered.
Kama swept the psalms sending
resort manicured grass, tourists
and their coconut oil baking in the sun.
Not caring that eyes were all around,
I listened, she listened and loved
sticky hot, the sand digging where
it should never be.
The breeze sent supernatural chills
we smoothed with kisses that tasted pink,
alive, so alive, sweeter than any candy.

That's all I have. Memories.
Somewhere, I lost the words
but still I can imagine her that easy,
though, I'd like to soon forget.