I choose to not write you.
Instead, we play tic-tac-toe with fingernail marks
on mosquito bites the size of dollar coins
until the asphalt smells of rainfall,
and the dogs bark borders while you sleep.
I choose to not write you.
Instead, we play tic-tac-toe with fingernail marks
on mosquito bites the size of dollar coins
until the asphalt smells of rainfall,
and the dogs bark borders while you sleep.
I love the smell of hot wet bitumen, so very summer, when all the dust tamps down.