i showed up at your work with a bottle of wine
and stood in the parking lot for two hours
with your skin in my thoughts like
sin and sun-heat on a garden of blacktop
twisted my ankle, leaning into the wind
with a sign that read
'i feel alright
i won't stop dreaming
i feel okay'
until you quit your job with a screech
took off your apron, spinning into bright oxygen
and crashed into my majestic arms
showed me your legs in a sundress

we ran and danced on a july breeze
and sang to each other the songs our souls
kept secret for so long until
your father and brother found us
and dislocated your arm when
you said you loved me like
the wind at night

i repaired you with kisses and tears
the next night when you snuck out
and we swayed to jazz in the dark on
the old bridge a mile behind your house
as the moon wept radiant heat
we giggled and smashed windows
the trees exploded with laughter through
the canyons

you caressed me with your eyes
this morning between shrieks of tightness,
your father and brother long forgotten
in a field in our hometown,
as you wipe last night's lipstick from
my throat and chest and stomach
your heated cheek-flesh screams whispers
of being free as you lap me

and i drink milk from a cold glass.