I
I work in the heat of the day though
It’s not so hot for summer, simply humid.
I wipe the sweat from my brow, the
Back of my hand pushing hair away,
Coming back moist, clean, my brow
Now smudged with dirt and clay.

Bags of dirt, bags of pea gravel, plants,
Pots, I am thinking forward, planning.
Music streaming, I close my eyes to the heat
And wait in the long line, not wanting
To brave the cool inside. I have time.
Skin moist, nose to shoulder,

I breath deep the smells of summer, of
White Verbena , Jasmine and salt.
I want to test my skin with tongue but
Don’t. Instead I think of you and the lake.

II
I awoke apprehensive
Your intellect
Excites the hell out of me.
I want to lick
Your brain,
Suck it out
Through any given orifice.

III
Worry and Doubt
Are my kryptonite.
I haven’t seen either
Hanging around lately.