The Burlesque Press Variety Show

The End of Summer by Eva Langston

In the darkness,
Under stars I’d never seen in city life,
We kissed.
The ocean was swells of black ink,
The air a cool, damp rag.

I traced his face like I was blind,
Remembering with fingertips
The shape of his sun-burnt nose.
We rolled around on bumpy ground,
And he said, I like you so much.

I suppose I’d known how the night would end,
My shoes were full of sand.
I tipped and poured like an hourglass.
Too fast, I whispered
to his wandering hands.
He said he would wait ’til I was ready,
And I believed him then.
But the next day he went back to school,
And I never saw him again.

Later we stood, disheveled,
And he unsatisfied.
Our eyes had adjusted to the starlight,
And we saw all along we’d been lying
on a pile of abandoned toys.