We had so much fun at that bonfire on the beach, he and I.
The air in my nose was stronger than a salmon swimming upstream.
But if you stayed close enough to the growling fire
that smoky haze would cover you better than a fur blanket.
So I stayed close, tucked into him
dreaming of honey.
Against the black curtain of the sky
It was hard to tell the difference between
the fading flickers of a hot, red amber from a fire
versus his taillights fading down the road.
And then you realize it can’t always be seven o’clock on a summer evening.