flying circles in your bloodred cadillac

roof up, so we can taste the stars

like brilliant popcorn launched into a blacker heaven.

wide green with overgrown grass damp from

july's drizzle, we stop.

you take my hand into the ankle-high barley that

tickles between bare toes. we sway like

the midnight breeze, among pollinating grains

as firstborns of a new eden.

you hum melancholy in folksong,

and reminisce a childhood we released

too swift in regrettable zest.

(we grew up together, then f e l l in sticky love)

i kiss the coffee aftertaste of your lips,

to imprint bittersweet upon the pages of you

and archive them sacred.