number 8

this summer of guitar riffs and drum base keeping time heartbeats around us, once again fire burns. taking off my coat, my back is bare to the humid air. as i bide my time with a glass of beer, i drink in your gaze- wondering when we finally kiss.

you gingerly hold my hand and ask me to dance. and to the reggae music we sway, knowing only ourselves in this moment. both of your hands on my hips as i feel your breath on the waves of my short hair. you have never seen me more pretty you said. and you sing to the band.

i cannot remember when i turned around. i remember only full lips on mine. soft and wet. my lower lip grazing the stubbles on your chin. this be my summer love.

and later as i rest my head on your shoulder, you lean and whisper, i left you no choice.