Infinite.

we dug our toes in mud
and sucked grapes from the tiny branch-like rind.
you traced adjectives on my back while wheat fronds tickled my face
we sat together, damp from creek water, on beach towels and watched heavy, swollen grey clouds threaten rain.
you laced your fingers through mine and traced the chipped blue polish there as though it was a map that God himself wanted you to find.
that was the only day that I can remember where “infinite” comes to mind.