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on a brisk summer morning i imagine keeping myself warm in the crook of your spine 

i imagine much that is not mine, that has never been mine like 

intertwined limbs and whispered confessions and grass imprints on my thigh next to a bruised kiss 

i imagine this lake breeze enveloping me in your scent—and it would be of mint or of pine or of a spiced vanilla i should try to bottle and sell at the farmers market we’d go to much less than we should 

on a brisk summer morning i imagine learning new bad habits with you like 

sleeping in until the room is hot and muddy and our skin sticks together like the cherry juice on our fingers we’d press to each others mouths 

i imagine deciding to go on a walk and getting lost in each other on the way, sprawled in the dirt and rocks by that cliffs edge, precarious and death taunting like all lovers should be  

i imagine good things too like 

waking up to stomach kisses and want like 

how a sin can feel better than sunday church like 

the taste of your lips after brushing our teeth on the fourth of july like 

your hair soft between my fingers, frizzy in the august humidity like 

on a brisk summer morning being kept warm in the crook of your spine and burning alive there. right there