Tip-Toed in a plastic house called green

*shhhh*

Quietly closed sliding door behind us and unraveled the cotton from smooth supple bodies; moonless night against Milky Way

*crunch**crunch*

Gravel under soles then between toes, exploring the constellations between moles and birthmarks more intriguing than the stars that look down on us.

Orion’s belt falls down the dirt path exposing Big Dipper.

Luminescence of sun shielded skin Apollo has not yet kissed but I will enjoy

Ambrosia

Ganymede is but a soot covered stone in comparison to him, that ephemeral shooting star. As I look into those eyes that seem to hold onto the Universe’s secrets and as I lay gazing upon galactic orbits I am revealed the truth.