Bike In The Mist

#3 for NaNoPoMo

The straw beneath my boots
sounds like breakfast being chewed,
my fog-wet cheeks glisten and I laugh.

Clouds kissing the earth
with foggy lush abandon
all sloppy wet exploration
as I finally capture your tongue with mine,
mere feet from the road
where your bike appeared from the mist,
a magician's trick in reverse
and you were the lovely assistant.

Your giggle gets taken by the cloud
with my reason a half second behind
when we both stop

and listen

to the sound of two hearts
beating out of sync

in otherwise perfect silence

Helping you to your feet is automatic,
as is my awkward goodbye,
and as I watch you pedal away

I think I am sure that fog is lucky.

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