A blown kiss floats above the ocean, lingers dreamt, a thumbprint stamped from nectarines with fuzz of peach and stubble of face, lobe of ear, grazed, bitten gently. The nectar drips down soft neck of smoke, sweat, sweet smell of Indian summer, legs and twigs entwined, not tangled. Burning blue and brown eyes look away, the music stops but doesn’t. And he and he fuck And he and he make love And he and he coffee through the rain walk that pours wine on his t-shirt of flowers . . .