Before you know it, it will be high summer
With blue shooting stars
At your fingertips
The air will smell pungent
Like wild mustard seeds
And it will be hot, hot enough
To stain your blouse with sweat
And you will feel warm and tingly all over
A hay fever of your femininity
There won’t be much to say
Not when we’re naked
On the last day of the jazz festival
There will be fireworks in another part of town
But in your bedroom, zippers will
Unzip, water against water
Skin to skin, before you know it
Evening will touch the last day of June
And you will whimper, and you will swoon
And I’ll be the one, stripping you
Your panties moist with excitement.
Wuji Seshat 