of the mountian as the sun sets behind
cotton-tailed clouds. An audience of bats
and dragonflies christen their loving gaze.
And me, in the distance.
Cool, sweetsummer breeze perfumed
with the lotion they rub on their
legs, their thighs, their hands holding,
I smell it from the bench I perch on,
Tettering on my seat, watching.
I can taste their uncontained joy, but
The darkness of night descends and the city
lights flicker on the horizon like heat
Rising from the hot black top.
I must leave.
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