Posts Tagged ‘heat’

senses #5 – sight


when the night heats up
in the city,
the water from days,
from puddles,
from cups,
from the air
and sticks to the bodies,
a condensed humidity,
to a salty sweat
that never goes away.

it makes bodies shine
under neon lights
of  damp alleys
and stuffy dance clubs;
it’s so pretty.

it’s in a heat wave
that cuts through my body
and lights up my nerves
like thunder,
that my skin tingles,
inside out,
and everything
flares up:

goosebumps are a photo
of desire
when my thighs
touches your thighs
as we cross each other’s steps
in the ballroom,
my pupils dilate
as a chopped-up picture of you
flashes, on and off,
under stroboscopic lights,
and fingers glide
through arms
in barely-there touches.


summers in rio


this is a perfect warm, sunny day.

perfect to do nothing but sweat the stiffing heat out and enjoy it, lying in cold, clean sheets, put fresh on the bed. absolutely perfect to stretch underneath the ceiling fan, feeling the wind blow down my cheekbones while hard-napping or maybe watching the cats spread out their little furry legs, bellies-up, all over the white cold floor tiles.

it’s a perfect day to just be. to take a holiday from everything, call your job and play hooky, to not show your face outside (“have you seen the sun out in the sky? it’s like a fucking blowtorch!”), and to move as little as possible; maybe go only from the bed to the kitchen and vice-versa, feeling the clothes adhere to the skin, the hairs stick to the back of the neck. to order food in, take a long cold shower (or two), pour a stiff, cold whiskey and numb our cooked brains.

a good, vacant day.

it’s a nice day to love one another untangled, respecting each others’ breathing space, trading soft tip-of-fingers caresses that are slow and melty like ice cream only. it’s a good day to roll around the top of the comforter, kick away the sheets to the foot of the matress, and to redefine love-

to let go of the unrealistic crap about holding on another all the time, being attuned to the others’ movement all your life, and to re-signify it to something softer, more unfocused (like pupils dilated after a dreamy night, a full dinner), but just more real and likely: gentle ass groping over underwear that’s not really going anywhere, cooking pancakes late at night after a marathon of movies, peeling pajamas off when the midnight breeze kicks in (windows open!) and maybe, tomorrow, noticing that this is what love really is:

summer days in the wonderful city, lounging around and being eventually back to reality… like, come tomorrow, facing the sun on the streets, passing through throngs of people, getting body odor to go to the grocery store to buy cereal and toilet paper… my stinky cheese and your nasty soy milk… and it all being worth it.



long I thought I had forgotten, but now in the eye of the mind, I recall that day with unparalleled fondness, with unmatched sweetness.

I reminisce, after a day filled with the rush of the bustling crowd and the oppressive heat of kitchen vapors, feeling anxious, wondering if you’d come (and jealousy, knowing that you had been two days with your lover).. and then relief, pure relief and joy after the night fell, upon seeing you turn the corner, hand-in-hand with your best friend. after that, I can only remember warmth and fuzziness from a belly full of food, illumination by the brightness of the perfect rows of your white teeth, happiness from knowing I was the cause of the melodic sound of your boisterous laughter amid pie and candy, and lightheadedness from the world spinning due to breathtaking love and bitter ales.

and, most importantly, I treasure the feeling of the softness of your hands (now just a passing memory, it is), the tips of your fingers sticky with crumbles and vestiges of lemon pie and meringue, as they tenderly pressed against my cheeks, crushing the cookies inside my mouth. as we locked eyes in laughter just before a sweet farewell hug, I remember the comfort of your touch, tingling in my skin – I was blushing furiously! -, how your irises shone… and holding my own hands behind my back in order not to grab you and kiss you right there in the middle of the street.