Incense of Memory

On a train of thought,
a traveler,
head against the
pillow, with hair tangled
into a garden of
strawberries retraces
steps through the
incense of memory.
Eyes immersed in
the map of your skin,
gazing through
the streets and avenues
along your back,
crossing the bridge
of your spine like
a hungry vagabond,
observing
particles of you,
resting upon freckles
of imaginary sands
on a desert of silk.
Traveling along a
panorama of
pink sunsets, eyes
stop by the
theater of reflection to
paint a
kaleidoscope of
moments born
from a glass
of red wine.