meeting kb

It was the first rain in months

Not a splitting open of the sky

But the warm dazzle of something shivering off.

She corked her legs around my torso

And said she liked my shape.

Asked me what I was doing

And laughed with something of

Nietzsche and beyonce and the practicality

Of generations in her.

What is it there that burns low and like a flare

Spits out and blinds for a time?

What does it eat in me that makes it glow?

Half the time she looks away, ever moving, full sail

And I am sputtering up her wonderful wake

The flecks of flotsam spurring my desire to

See clearly through that foam

To what appears to be an entire sun

On the horizon. A golden yoke.

To be slurped up. To be worn around

My neck. There are sounds in these first few days

I am unaccustomed too.

Her exasperated sigh at me, at the moments

We seem close enough to touch.

My youthful whimper eeking out

When she pulls her mouth away.