Amber (aka a really rough poem)

Bittersweet amber
is, I think,
the color of my discontent.

No wound apparent, just
some thing, in your voice –
in your tone;
and the burnt gold blood seeps from my skin.

I feel it,
and wonder at it –
and you.

When I reach to touch your shoulder,
when I reach to turn your face to mine,
it holds me (frosted glass tears,
cooled to stillness at the unspoken language of your body).

Later, alone,
I find a different amber.
Sparkling crystal grains –
the shattered skin of some
beautifully dead insect.

Each time I trail my finger
through the skeleton-skin
the sun shines from each
warm yellow facet.

Later, with you,
when I trail my fingers
across your cheek,
Some thing shines –
and the amber
under our skin
is perhaps not so bitter anymore
----
Xuemei's Nice Meal of the Day:
-wood ears, chicken, and cauliflower with rice; ginger and sweet sauce
(don't be like me and eat the one tiny chunk of ginger in the entire bowl, and thus taste the burning)
----
Steven gets a "wooowwww" for his pictures from Thailand - he gots mad skillz, j0. Things of note included war monkey statues, his cute friend who had the cool name 'Apple', massive temples covered entirely by tiny paintings, floating markets, red light districts (re: a bar named "G-spot", advances by prostitutes), a video of a guy sticking his arm down the gullet of a crocodile, and scary tropical storms. None of us had realized the Indian/Asian mix that Thailand seems to be, which was interesting in and of itself.