She will kiss in public while she’s young enough, old enough, in love, or bored enough, without any damns or ***** to give you. Her hips move at a cant, leaning eager like the legs of new-limbed lambs.
She waves them on with twin fingered salutes, all for a moment, of ****** hands, tilted necks, for heels popping off the floor in rejection of restraint.
So watch. Drop your jaws and shove your sweat-lined hands deep in your lint-filled pockets while she pours her endorphin soaked joy into that boy's mouth surrounded on all sides by Technicolor sweetness wrapped and bottled, anticipating its own undoing.