its been love like open windows and summer.
like last time - but this time, he calls a lot more
and I'm not a ground sloth about it. smoking
all my weed on the FM radio, how does anybody
get out of here? his eyes were so brown, and
standing on my tippy toes to kiss him in the kitchen
is only making it bigger. this idea that I have
where we are completely happy all summer and I
do my best not to fall in love, but as soon as he
looks over at me from his pillow and I can see it.
I mean really see it, curving over the corners
of his smiles, dancing off the rhetoric from his tongue
down his chin where it touches my lips and I taste it;
then I will not be able to keep myself from coming
under him and admit it all about my love and how
it got so twisted up over the years, and yes he it tangled.