Hot night, flicker streetlight
and fade.
The caress of a humid river evening
among its sisters arrayed,
by passage of time this starless flight
sits lonesome but not mislaid.
Summer still writes a letter of remembrance,
suffocating in its sweetness
She concealed we two in our furtive stroll.
Lovers in mind, daring no completeness.
Round the pond we wandered,
pressing close, murmuring our hearts.
No dusky idyll this, the dripdrop of sweat from our noses,
fierce stings of mosquitoes, no prick of roses
Only awkward memories, in countless little carts.
Tell me now, chili pepper,
Did you treasure those false starts?
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