you’re wearing a sundress. yellow and white. it’s the beginning of summer, that brief moment before the heat hits, but after the blustery spring, after the torrential april rains, those few days when it’s quiet and the temperature is perfect, the trees and the green grass, everything is swelling with appreciation for the warmth and the moisture. we’re in the park, just before dusk. essentially sitting in each other’s laps. prior to this, dinner, dancing, a few drinks at carlito’s. now we’re here, and it’s quiet, and it’s serene. i’ve been kissing your neck, you have a firm hand grasping my thigh. this is a moment, a frozen moment, never to be duplicated. i spent my life getting to this moment, and i’ll spend the rest of it trying to get back. i have my hand up your sundress on the bare skin of your hip. i can feel the fabric of your cotton panties. you have a look in your eyes that defies explanation, but i’ll try: it’s … the kind of lust that brings warm thunderclouds rolling into the city and lights the sky up in patterns of torrential brilliance. i don’t even know. i don’t even know. you’re such a beautiful creature that night, the streetlight lights up and creates a golden halo around your hair, lights your face in this warming glow. you smile and i wonder how many died of a broken heart chasing after your perfect teeth. you’ve got your hair in curls and i feel bad reaching my hand in that spiraled nest, disturbing the idyllic ringlets, to rest my palm against the side of your face. your cheeks are flushed, the warmth of your body against my hand. and when we finally kiss it’s like all the electrons in my body escaped through my lips into yours. my heart’s beating so hard just remembering it. i don’t know about you.