She strikes a match across her jean shorts.
The fabric for her pockets stick out under the hem.
Her eyes linger on the flames for a second,
like she's pondering
of lighting something she shouldn't.
She breathes in and bends
to light a couple of branches
in the pile.
She drops the match in the middle of the pile
watching branches catch the flames.
A smile spreads on her face
as she climbs up onto the diamond plated tailgate
of his black truck.
He smiles and hands her a glass bottle.
This was her Friday night.
Hanging out with the guys in
the fields.
He nods towards the thick brush
behind his truck.
She smiles to jumps to the ground
following him into the dark.
The sounds of water lapping a bank fills her ears.
She watches as he slips out of his shirt
and she steps out of her shorts and top.
He eases into the water as she jumps from the rotting dock.
This was her Friday night.
They float in an area that they could stand.
And when they did,
they locked hands
and shared a kiss.
The frogs croaked
and
the cricket chirped.
This was their Friday night.