(J'ai demandé à la lune,)

am I too cold for you?
why won't you wrap your arms around me? Unloosen those limbs like a tree shakes off its branches in the wind.

do you not own me enough? Twenty five years of children, houses we don't own, school plays and split pay checks.

twenty five years of mixing you cocoa every night, adding the cold milk and sugar that makes it palatable to you.

a king sized bed, with blankets and comforters. Why do I need to be covered by your body, wrapped in sky blue silk?

you should be warm enough for yourself, she says. As she passes me a glass of picnic basket wine. I turn my head.

there are fire flies to catch, bees circling the grasses we're about to drink from, a blue dragonfly.

(il était seulement une aventure.)