making for the woods “then the river”
our august skin hears its coolness before we ever did
unlooked-for-band skipping rogue stones on curbless pavement
eight in all swearing loud for the hell of it, loose
and highly flammable

kerosene sloshes as kerosene sloshes
on the move “enough to make a jet engine …”
boasts shushed as porch lights catch hems
of shirtless backs running uncapped lapping
to ignite something anything out of breath
to show them to show them how our hands can

unmake

river mouth at our street’s very end
always unlocked and if it was a noon-time-water we’d see puddle-like-rainbows
float ’n swirl like on jenny’s asphalt black wet driveway just laid
searing leaning into her ’76 firebird.  and jenny’s shining hair

her shining hair …

row of bare foot beasts pour on past midnight
mouth to mouth filling the river full of unlit chemical giddy
shaking wooden matches shake shakeshake percussive pieces
striking one by one under johnny’s front tooth “only takes one, dumb ass”
to set it fine never thought just us could, i mean, burn up a river like that, “damn fine”
sky burnt whiteorange bare feet stomping hair caught faster than fast stomping
crinkling brows melting her two hands away (and she never did come back)

our awed bodies too hot to blink, burst skin doused in standing light baptized
small gods our dry lips
couldn’t pronounce

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