still sweating

my mustache is still sweating i report
long after the ultimate frisbee game has ended
while the day’s heat climbs
darien, sweat-covered at 10something a.m.,
we lean in for a virtual hug,
a stainless steel bowl of just-harvested collards
carried in the crook of his arm
the color explosion welcome
held in a mason jar-turned vase
on the sandhill porch table and kitchen butcher block
of cosmos, larkspur and sunflowers
wherein a dog i love so much and i
reunite on the porch couch –
clearing all doubt about whether or not
dogs actually smile
the combo of lightning bug flickers
on top of lightning flashes in the distance
while we walk down the gravel
in the dusking

what sounds like rain
as i lean over piles of magazines,
cutting out photos,
is bugs bumping against the
glowing paper lantern overhead

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