barbecue

Now, the evening is clear, crisp. It feels like fall, sweaters and cider, you standing behind me, your arms around, cold hands beneath the warm wool. Gasp, and you make my eyes shut as the bliss of your pinch registers in my mind, the fire catching the wind and blowing up, sucking oxygen from the air as I hold out a stick and carelessly burn another marshmallow. It looks so innocent here in the grass, a couple and a Weber grill, smores that I will forget to eat as soon as the kitchen door shuts and you have turned me around, pinned my wrists against the wall until my resistance is gone, and we are roughly tugging at clothing, aware of the long craving, aware of the long night.

6 thoughts on “barbecue

  1. Cheeky Minx says:

    Yes, yes, a thousand times yes to this fiery craving…

  2. Jo says:

    I wish I could step into your picture.

  3. Chris Lowe says:

    That’s all very well, but don’t overcook my steak.

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