we lived in one of those unending days
when the air clings to salt-beaded skin
and even umbral night cannot cleave
us from the heat. lazy hours passed
like wishes on eyelashes, beautiful
to behold but so intangible –
and when we wearied of the sun
you threw up your umbrella
to cast us into man-made lethe.
forget the sun, you said.
for us, it will close its eyes.
(and it did)
and as you lounged in the soaking grass
with a skeleton of metal and cloth
held above like a saving grace,
I could only step out into the deluge
and let my footsteps wander the path
carved by raindrops, and wonder
why you would not dance.
