Intentions intertwined,
woven between wrinkles in beach blankets.
Underneath the glow of revolving lighthouse beams.
A taste of hops drips from your lips.

Your fingers tangled in mine.
Your mind tangled with hers.
Our tongues tangled together.

Miscommunicated body language hangs off your hands,
hugging my hips.
You, stuck between skinny dipping in the swells,
and scared of getting a little sandy.

She calls.