Haystack romance is prickly; starlight sex,
lousy with mosquitos. The South plays
rough with sweet fantasies, delicate
and tender dreams. Humidity is hard
on romance and candied violets. Meringues
sweat and pink spun sugar weeps.
It’s difficult for me to want a bright eternity.
Heavenly is dappled, shot with sprinkler prisms,
clinks with melting ice. Sweet is a deep porch,
cool as a cave with a bottomless lake. Togetherness:
ephemeral, though long as all summer’s afternoons.