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  • I love when you wear my pajamas
    And (even more) when they land
    on the floor of my room
    in a bunch, inside out, still

    smelling like you as they
    fall from waist to ankles
    arms outstretched
    which have marks of heat

    scars from hot oil and flames
    yet feel soft like dove wings
    when they skim across
    the sheets and pillow cases

    and land in the fold
    of the mattress, striking a rhythm
    between our bodies
    with movements that push

    mexico into blue
    sand into ancient stone
    and rivers into valleys
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