we hibernate in the air-conditioned refuge
of a stolen ice-cream truck and its looping melodies.
this heartbeat stranded longingly between us,
we stain our lips peach with italian ice kisses
and spill lemonade in rivulets down our sweat-sweet backs.
beneath the tangle of our thighs,
childhood melts away in a carton of creamsicles:
a puddle of fifty-cent memories
traded for the murkiness of what might have been.
A/N: I've been kidnapped by a girl who writes these love poems and signs my name instead.