I step into the mid-June semi-dark to place
his letter in the mailbox. I flip
the flag to attention, adjust
my polyester robe, open a slit
wider down my center, let the tepid,
lukewarm twilight graze
my nakedness beneath.
I recede up the driveway,
padding barefoot upon the still-warm asphalt, when
the resonant hum of the bikes on the bypass
behind the trees seems to
all at once
lay flush upon the parts
of me left bare, the flashbulb
fireflies too bright, too alive for
the nocturnal lull,
and I pause at the stoop;
After a breath I step
dazed into the hushed air-conditioning
of the foyer, starstruck and
overexposed.
