it's under that hot summer sun that i sit,

the one that scorches you and turns your skin pink until its blistered and stinging, but you love it anyway.

i sit here, watching the morning glories leftover from the sunrise siesta curl up and wither into dry husks, faded but still colorful enough to remind me of what they once were.

i look up, and the clear blue sky is so bright it's painful, so i close my eyes. the sun dances warmly on my cheeks and i try to remember a time before i knew you.

a gold-crested finch flies by, then two, then four. suddenly i'm with them, wheeling and flitting and dancing amongst the flowers, flirting with the bees and--

there you are. your green eyes, bright like electric limes, pore into mine and express an emotion that i didn't know any human was capable of. except you're not, really.

we sit together in the guava-sunscreen-scented sunshine, speaking in our own language about those birds, and for a second we look at each other. i smile, and we wait for the sun to go down.