—Milton

wandering orchard back roads west
of her folks’ house mostly wordless

they played tennis on a ragged court
at the deserted Army post near Airlie

sat sweaty in the shade of a feral pear
sprouted from a crack in the corner

nibbled its cankered fruit touching
fingertips to share a tepid Coke

as they spoke in bashful idolatry she
lifted her sun gilt calf across his shin

daylight dimmed the court got cool
frogs sang of sex in a distant ditch

he stood guard as she shyly pee’d in
the brush outside the busted gate