LATE MARCH TWILIGHT
Sue and me
on the ornamental cherry tree’s lower
swaying branches, fraught and
delicate with white blossoms, her chin
on my knee, a hardon
in my corduroy pants under her hand’s
pleasant tease.
Both our smiles
easy and slight.
Few words
pass; a breeze half
obliterates us among blossoms
and blossomy rustlings.
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