How lush the night draping its inky curtains
over cheekbones & pedicures. July
licking its way around every ripe calf

& thigh, wet hug of sweat
& cotton. Tube top, short shorts, cheap
bar magic. Say Please. Say We are made

of curves & glisten. Your sweetheart
is not your sweetheart. I am
the beginning & the end of this

story: Listen, it’s nobody’s fault. All winter
we wore the curse of the Midwest’s cold
shoulder, puffy coats & chaste long-

underwear. Let’s show the warm patios
of Ann Arbor how it looks to take
what we want: this dream of plenty

& plenty of dream. Muddle regret
into an old-fashioned glass. Be simple
syrup sugaring the burn. Say What if cheating

is the most honest thing humans do. I’ll ask
the softest skin of your neck what
its name is. I promise I won’t remember.