Mid-July

For the second time,

The days are now as long

As when we first shared sightlines.

It has been a year or two.

You smile like an experienced bride

But never slide an inch my way.

The cicadas sing us lies.

You repossess your hand

And vanish, 

Hiding at the end of the breadcrumb trail.

You spread your feet

Away from the pedals,

Coasting down the hill.

I soon am chasing taillights.

We never signed our names.

We still can kick the whole sandcastle down.

You laugh like liquor

Pouring out the bottle,

Navigating bubbles.

- 1/16/26