Adolescence

In water-heavy nights behind grandmother's porch

We knelt in the tickling grasses and whispered

Ashu's face hung before us, pale as a pecan,

And it grew wise as she said:

A boy's lips are soft

As soft as baby's skin,

The air closed over her words

A firefly whirred near my ear, and in the distance

I could here streetlamps ping

Into miniature sun

Against a fairly sky...