We lie down, the grass
cold and damp against
our backs; side by side,
we talk of lovers past
and future (present is
occupied), permanence
not being a concern but
instead a disappointment
(you say the fun is in the
new, but real joy is found
in kicking out the old), and
we give it three weeks
(maybe four) until we both
get bored, so I grab your
hand and you grab my waist
and we make the most of
this wet grass summer.










