summer
her room was painted white
with grey trim
there was no need for curtains
a huge tree casting green shadows
and cooling the whole place down
we would lie on the bed
naked and sweating
sometimes we made love
and sometimes we didn't
it all seemed the same
the days passed without us eating
just drinking iced white wine
we were both feverish
so that when we kissed
or touched skin to skin
it was hot
and full of subtle messages
we didn't need to understand
the days passed with us together
not needing the clarification
of other people's understanding
or conversation
at night the streetlight
fought through the huge trees
and cast small leaf-sized shadows
that did not interrupt our lovemaking
the summer rambled on
and eventually fall moved in
we did not notice the passing season
but instead marveled
at the sound of the wind
in the diminishing leaves
Copyright© michael dennis/Pulp Press Book Publishers 1988