Out back of the carport the bayou quivered with mayflies

and June bugs and mosquitoes looking for love.

A normal summer night in the south.

A bare yellow lightbulb sputtered on the porch.

We bet our meager allowances

on how much longer it would last.

We hoped it would go out.

Night is better.

It wasn’t chilly, but you put your jacket around me,

and blushed with the tremor that went through me.

The smell of your skin enveloped me.

I put my hand on your arm and

Your elbow bumped my breast.

I felt you gasp, and I looked down quickly to smile.

There were cinnamon candies in your jacket pocket.

We took two, knowing it wouldn’t be long

before we would be breathing each other’s breath.

We knew where to go, and there was still plenty of time.