Friday July 22, 2015
Overheard at the No Frills
In the shade
Under the tree marked
with our initials
we wrote songs about the parents
we’d become a decade from now.
In the heat
Pressed against the cold fridge
door we kissed places we forgot
In the summer
rivers of sweat descending between
breasts and hips and shoulder blades
we wove macrame homes where our
cactus might live.