the daisy chain

it's late in the afternoon and i've just come home from the swimming pool. you are at your desk writing, but not really because you've already heard me drop my bicycle to the ground and hop up the steps. you lean back, opening your body to make room for mine as i run into the room and leap into your lap, peppering you with kisses. you lick my shoulder and jokingly complain that i am salty. i laugh and turn to offer you my opposite shoulder. sliding the strap of my sun dress down, you wet kiss me until my nipples get hard and press into the triangles of my bikini top. you tug the rubber band down the length of my ponytail, letting it hit the ground before folding me up and carrying me to bed. you undress me and turn me onto my stomach, tracing your finger slowly along my tan lines you say, you know you really need to be more careful out there. i make a poor joke about us both needing to be more careful about things. naked and intertwined, we take turns whispering: i'll be careful to look both ways...i'll be careful to never say that again... you are inside me and my mind is weaving a daisy chain that stretches down the stairs, out the door, and all the way into town. the people on the street blush and turn away, having no idea what to make of something so impossibly beautiful.

the curtain whips against the open window as if to scold the breeze for arriving so late.