He sneaks a bold finger into her navel.
She squirms in sudden protest.
He quickly lifts the damp hair from her neck
and kisses little apologies.
Her sigh forgives the intrusion, she rolls to her side
suddenly all hip and pale inner thigh.
He follows swiftly down the valley,
a little boy running home for dinner-
He hums a nothing song.
She quietly hums along.
He waits.
She says it first and means it.
His heart pulses twice at these prophetic murmurs.
Her mood quickly changes, leaps to her feet, flexing naked muscles
and pouting in comic exaggeration.
He laughs and softly adores her unselfconsciousness, this is new.
She bends to kiss him.
He remembers the oven is on.
She remembers the time.
He whistles Last Stand cheerily to the scorched vegetables.
All because she touched him inappropriately in the kitchen
in lieu of uncorking the wine.