It was quiet and sweet

It was quiet and sweet
Like a baby's feet
In a car on a summer night
And the fishermen across the way
Were fading and quivering
In the buzzing twilight,
And you put your hand on my leg,
Right where my dress ended
And the dimples in my knee began,
The dimples scattered with a
Smooth-sailed bike riding scar,
And that curvy twirl in the
Rainbow skirt back along a tumbling
Hill of grass and knots,
One looking like a smurf's foot,
The other a fine stamp, a fine brand,
Of a boy with a twitch and the night
I chased him and tripped.
I blushed and you could see it like a blaze,
the fishermen called to each other,
And my words were stuttering like
Symmetrical snaps of a fish,
Caught in purgatory, with a little hook
In his poor little lip,
And my voice squeaked like the sound
Of a car door as the fishermen
Emptied their coolers into their trunks
And drove behind us in bone cadillacs,
And I watched them with my hand on my chin
As their tail lights blinked between the trees
And your hand on my thigh
And fishes with open mouths breathing icy air
In a cooler in the trunk.