intertextuality

if the texts we share could conjure me up
like the patria madre
the great field of your play,
the fertile ground for your cheek

if you could imagine
me encompassinging and effervescing into the space to the left of your earlobe,
alighting and vanishing as you caress the air with your gaze

if we shared these kinds of texts,
fundamental and planar,
hot and gaseous,
spreading infinitely over the space between your table and mine,
my hands would be warmed,
by yours
and your gaze would cease to fix.

there is the matter of this private joke in your smirk
that you share with me each time I am jostled by your presence
and I wonder who else
gets it
or gets the pleasure of its trajectory
or the richness of the black stain on your tooth
and the crooked tilt of your eyes.

or if you know
that with that look
you could really ask me anything.