Is it getting hot in here?
or is it the breath of summer
sliding down the walls like
the sweat dripping off
of
you.
Just the peek of skin under cheeky
jean shorts, worn with the sway
of someone who may know more
about holding a body than a pen.
Just a preoccupied tongue,
rolling cinnamon candy in
a salsa circle,
sticky teeth
******* clean a
hot asphalt moment between
you and June,
that girl who makes do with your
pale legs and turns them into
firewood.