We hold our arms out
as if we are
airplanes
and fly around
the yard.

Bumping into each other,
we understand
the excitement
of mid-air collisions;
the sudden explosion
and the heat
of new flames.

Then rolling around
we quickly
become alligators
our arms become
mouths
fighting over
a piece of fresh meat.

Then we turn into
professional
wrestlers
and I lift you
in my arms
and act as if
I am
going to body
slam your
body
slam your
body
to the ground.

The grass is freshly-cut,
loose blades
gather together
waiting to be raked,
we make it rain
green
and huddle
together,
my hands
become
your umbrella.

It smells like
summer;
it smells like
strawberries,

***** blond
strawberries

and my hands
become
your brush

and your arms
become
my belt.