completely obliterated

When you lay on your back
on my couch
or in my bed,
with your eyes closed
and the "everything's right with the world"
grin on your face,
your hair tousled
and your lips a little
bruised
and swollen,
you looked like heaven to me.

You looked like sunshine and laughter
and French fries and hot fudge shakes.
Back rubs
and midnight walks in the rain in the summertime
when you don't have to get up early
and no one sees you
with your back
pressed against the bricks of an unknown downtown building,
sneaking kiss after fevered, head-over-heels kiss...
so you don't feel those bricks anyway.

You looked like the softest pillow,
the smoothest skin,
the most amazing flower that blooms out of season
and lasts for days and days,
light fragrance lingering in the air
like a memory just out of reach.

You looked like steak with bacon
and a new box of books, just for me.
A long bath with time for a nap after
and the best smelling hair goo ever.
A real letter in the mailbox when all there's been for days are bills.
A crazy, spontaneous idea
that seems outrageous but kind of fun
that turns out to be just right
to show somebody a side of you
they haven't ever seen before.

You looked like wasabi
and getting naked in a car on a gravel road
because ...why not?
There's no one I'd sooner trusted
with my body,
which you seemed to understand intuitively,
even though it also seemed
that you were always uncovering something new,
to the delight of each of us.

You looked like Dr. Wolfe and Homer
(OK, not so much the "Homer" bit, not for real anyway)
and White Goodman.
You looked like stupid jokes
and terrible movies--
and I will never forget The Village
because it was the first movie
that we completely obliterated
by making out,
which made it totally worth watching.
You look like Pop-Tarts and hot dogs,
toe rings and thumb rings,
and socks when my feet get cold.

The most simple explanation of why I wanted you
(in one of the
zillions of ways that I wanted you)
is because
you looked like
heaven
to me.