The air's
popcorned,
butter-rich,
slicing.
The girl
trembles
electric:
it must
be my
touch, the
allure
of it.
She has
odors
ripe as
berries,
markets
open
early.
Her dress
is Lupinus
Perennis,
Maritime
roadside
purple
like a rich
woman's
lingerie,
tight in
the crotch,
heady.
After-
wards will
be the
real thing.