AS STARS DO.

A butterfly fluttered by as we lay in the long grass talking; well she talked, I listened to her words, took them into my mind, turned them around as if they were rare gems, all air and breath, peppermint tasting. I looked at the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the blouse; her hand shading her eyes from bright sunlight; her hair tu ked behind her ears; lips mo!ing, the pink gloss tou hing lip to lip as she spoke. The butterfly disappeared from sight; red and bla k and white wings, fluttering, riding between her words, arrying off, maybe, a breath feel,

a wing tou hed, olourful, sight aptured. I ould ha!e ran a finger along her thigh, barely tou hing, skimming maybe, but my fingers beha!ed, held ba k; the rise and fall of her mounds, the eyes shaded, her words be ame butterflies, fluttered about me, arrying softness, tender as bubbles, syllables upon syllables rea hing for the sky, then like far away stars they began to die.