281/365: Love Medium
You wore a denim shirt,
soft and rolled at the cuffs
with button holes fingered ragged.
I decided I would love you
as long as you held my cheekbone against your ribs
and did not speak.
I traced your snap buttons with my finger,
drawing figure eights down your chest,
and breathed in your Ivory soap and cigarettes,
your ironed cotton and aftershave,
while someone's guitar rippled through the bonfire
and called me back,
and back again.