Before You Were 35

green shirt, green garden

sangaria that doesn’t quench

in sticky DC air.

notes of a saxophone

captured

in the icky heat.

 

we escape into tunnels,

green train going the wrong way.

a red sign greets us:

chili dogs and michael jackson on a loop.

 

there’s a taxi ride and blues this time,

a pool and backflips –

a bruise black as the night.

 

fireworks and cherry wheat.

a balcony too cold

without my back against

your chest.

 

ice cream cake and midnight kebab,

stolen kisses and confessions like that

saxophone,

suspended

in the air, waiting

for the perfect moment to:

descend,

intoxicate,

seduce.

 

I unwrap green sheets,

You touch my elbow –

“One more…”

 

And this was only the start.

 

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One thought on “Before You Were 35

  1. Whisper cold winter of Utah
    Cozy flames, fireplace
    Powder Mountain of North
    Feisty Grand ma
    Rushing Ogden spring water
    Brothers’ rivalry, untold stories
    Gap in front teeth
    Web of friends
    Lackadaisical days of summer
    Twine fort
    Suspended! school graffiti!?
    24, become something!
    Paging for congressman
    Colony of ants
    Overheated campfire
    Travelling the “Storm of the Century”
    Now coping with in-laws
    Exhilarating fatherhood awaits
    Family man in progress….

    Liked by 1 person

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