golden-turning,
honey-tasting,
smokeyoceanbarbeque-smelling
bare skin, muscles aching...
we closed our salty eyes
and feeling the sun, spread our l i m b s
like roots
on the surface of the echoing blanket
while leaves dappled the amber of the long, late day
the smell of petrol and strawberry-marmalade
washed over us,
wave
after warm, sleepy wave
a caramel jawline, caught in the corner of my eyes
spoke to me of a hanging mid-afternoon, sad and sweet
like a decade-old song in the air.
but our fingers were long and limp on our laps
through lines of flushed rhythm, my seafoam blood was smiling,
my heart a wine-press,
my eyes shutting their flicker lenses
to paint this skin-glowing picture
with drowsy, syncopating brush strokes
in time,
in swing;
on the september backseat we sat...
infinite.
sated.
glimmering.