The Sun & the Scorpion

A luxurious apartment for my birthday weekend, steps from the beach, rustling leaves through the windows. My beloved in a soft bed with me, warm and hard under my fingers, dry skinned. All day we sat staring at the green ocean under the white hot sun, tequila and beer, sand everywhere. Smell of sunscreen and lime. Blurry joy. We are finally under the palms. We have planned and saved and we have made it to this moment. Dinners at sunset with cold white wine, cold beer, rich brown tequila añejo. We laugh about all our Portland dinners at Ixtapa, at Por Que No, at Que Pasa—staring at each other over margaritas, dreaming of this day.