on top of your Ford Fairlane,
a signal I read, a sign saying single,
strong arms and back, competent knots,
wants to drive north longs to launch
canoe in lake water, hear white pines sing
in the wind we’ll stake our tent there —
somewhere along the way I became we,
mine became ours, there was a leap
in your reasoning, strengthened by your happiness,
by summertime and your mop of thick hair,
your easy tiger stride,
your easy tears.
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