do you recall
the first night
in last year’s summer
when the air,
the evening breeze
coming off the ocean,
was at last warm and carried
sea spray and jasmine
up to my balcony
where you reclined
against me,
my hands on you
under your shirt?
you let me trace you
into aching flood
and i kept you stranded
until you led me
indoors.

i will not clothe you,
i will undress you

when we are drunk
on each other

i will forget
you are familiar

you will remember
everything is new

we will be
the perfect strangers