This Summer

It's eighty degrees and smells like sunscreen
and there's a breeze teasing
the bright green tree leaves
in the distance behind us
making the shadows dance
on the long summer grass.
His hand rests on my knee
but he's all I need
and there's no one around to see
as I move it up my thigh
and he's mine, all mine.
Love has no concept of time;
the universe and its strange,
subtle signs are on our side.