summer, 2005

she read to me from a book,
spine propped on my temple,
called disobedience, her distracted fingers
in my hair, tangled
because i hadn't started using conditioner yet.
i liked her reading voice the best–
clipped on the wet bump of her bottom lip,
steady, her throat and posture extended.
she read aloud to me from disobedience,
while i lay across her lap and–
tried not to, but– twitched every time she said "love".