Incarcerated by the - (ohsovivid!) memory of your large, brown
smile, I lie on my back in the grass on this hill by the lake - where I last saw you.

You were all hands and mouth and manner of brazen as you listened (semi) attentively to all the things she seemed to be saying. Your eyes smoke and tinder, dancing, spinning her (seamless) stories into something - more.

I watched your fingers play a game with her coy skin - hide and seek. Cowboys and Indians (dot). Does she want me, does she - knotting her hair casually, tugging insistently on the things she would not say.

Barely audible - you swam rivers in her confusion. I think you enjoyed it - her reluctance, the twisting of her limbs from your invasive aggressions. The more she ran, the more you went seeking, between the banks of her toes and the hollow of her neck.

I watched as you found me there. Hidden in her pores - parallel universe. In the corners of her silences, in the almond eyes. The more you ran, the more I came seeking - pulling myself through the silty mesh of her hair, the considerable cocoon of her heart.