Bridgeport Connecticut

Five years later I still think about: sitting on the wooden steps of your backyard in a heatwave summer wind bangs the screen door shut your hair against your face, sticky heat gravel between our toes sun burned rocks sweating through my shirt I can smell your deodorant damp baby powder you peel grapefruit into centimeters and slip it between my teeth just for heartbeat I can taste your fingertips your skin against my tongue you taste like graprefruit with splenda on top tart and left-handed sweet and soap from the kitchen sink a shield of clothesline towels girls kissing girls under grey Bridgeport skies