Sicily. Summer.

Italy. Summer 1985.

peach & honey in the air, ice-cream. Ice-cream cones on the pavement,

windows flung wide-open, an orchard of apricot trees with wind-chime breeze

through the leaves & branches shimmering with heat-haze. There’s a timeless

oil-painting or polaroid-worn-away-at-the edges kind of beauty about this dream,

& you, paint-spattered camera-flash on your skin, you & you & you.

I want to live like this forever.

Always reaching for each other and never quite touching. Light bathing the

marble-skin of your back, muscles rippling the way the river flows, softly, urgent.

Call it love, call it anything you want. In this life, it starts raining the second we say

each other’s names / in the next, the world stops breathing right before we kiss

for the first time / in another, we jump into the river at dawn an never come up for air.

By unknown

(if you are the author, please let me know)