Text
In June, me and you
Snuck out the back door,
Stole between buttery street lamps, then
Wound down a suburban dead end,
Where we put ourselves to bed
On a cul-de-sac’s asphalt bulb.
Yesterday’s heat rose through
Bodies sun-scorched and mosquito-stung.
Hands brushed, but
Even under midnight’s sheet,
It was too hot to do anything other
Than burn.
Another August, we
Pour from a theater lobby,
Gush over candied neon streets,
Leave glitter like breadcrumbs
There to here, a now
Spent stargazing on crisp grass – work-sore, sure –
But we breathe dew
Rejuvenating like watermelon
Ice breakers under the tongue.
We knot fingers to keep warm,
Walk home with arms chain-linked,
Cackling without shame.