through the dock's scummy underbelly
the water is always warmer than you'd think.
We tied our used-up underthings
into a sopping bundle
and tilted up the hillside
our shadows ferociously taking the lead.
It only rained a little
(from a suspiciously wispy sky).
Freed by the double-blades—
their angles closing in all the right places:
Now I've got summer's breath around my neck
and sunspots that cloud my eyes
with a silver lining
that dances through the darkness of a room
and remains shining
after night has crept up her cloudladder.
Sun-drunk and glazed in afternoon rock'n'roll
we tumbled into bed
the air dancing happily into our lungs.