i didn't mean to kiss you underneath
the sagging tree in your backyard
it wasn't very romantic

i was just trying to brush the
flower petals from your orange hair

but my face slipped

your hands were in
your jean pockets
and i'd been sucking on a peppermint

above us
black paint spilled over
the clouds; they rumbled in irritation
the radio sitting on the steps
announced a tornado
heading our way