As we lie here picking new species from the sky
My fingers stray through his brown curls
and wrap them snug around each digit.
Breathing deep, I am intoxicated.
Ear to ear, forehead to chin, we are
mirrored forms on the afternoon grass,
shadowed as the sun passes through the trees.
And as white cumulus take on form and life in blue-green eyes,
We strive to mold what we can from our own two helpless shapes.
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