it’s the witching hour, i whisper, as i turn to look at you. as we collapse, i notice this: our feet, webbed.
my best friend is the rescued dog and that’s the summer that i meet you. you know everything about astrophysics and i sometimes cry into my tea while thinking about fairies. we are sitting on the porch and you are suspended in cigarette smoke, your mouth forming words about quantum entanglements that would never reach my ears. timothy licks my hand and i look into his eyes with love. he isn’t the cat but i might actually love him more.
later: you take me in your arms and tell me that i am almost gold
later: we are on the mountain and when everything dissolves i notice that we are cloven-hoofed children.
the fireflies tremble and blur my vision
he is at his desk and i fall to my feet with veneration. a devotee, in love.
i am collecting cashew apples and i forget that summer always comes to an end. your grandmother is my favorite person and i sing her songs in my mother’s tongue.
you think i am ridiculous and you
summer ends and i