Thoughts from a front porch

The night is humid
and it bothers me
that I smile
every time
I see your name
on my phone
 
I’m drinking black coffee
way too late  
and I’m sure
I’ll bitch about  
insomnia in the morning
 
But my rabid mind  
races faster than
my dirty feet  
and I can’t catch my
thoughts before they leave  
 
How the fuck did my feet  
get so dirty?
 
Mosquitos the size
of my karma fizzle around  
the night  
and I  
wonder what  
flavor of ice cream  
you like
 
and I wonder
what your cool
lips would feel like
tasting of that flavor
 
I wonder why I stopped  
wearing toe rings?
They were a fun phase.
Like belly rings
and whale tales.
 
It’s just rebound feels
nothing to be  
alarmed  
of  
 
except
that I’d catch myself 

smiling at your name
during the era  
when
I didn’t smile  
at anyone  
 
But it’s just a thought,
nothing real,
and it passes like  
a kidney stone  
 
I wonder if you’d flinch,
or inhale sharply,
if my hand  
slipped under
your shirt
to skim my fingertips
along your side
as my  
exhale traced
your beautiful  
mouth
 
of if you’d lean in
 
…
 
The air
is humid and
it bothers me
how I wonder
about  
you