I thought of you sitting underneath the lemon tree and felt the summer sun.
When cicadas sang, we danced.
If lavender fields sway in the direction of blowing wind, I sway into you,
and like flossing, brushing, or swishing, thinking about you is inevitable.
I trip on uneven steps, cracks in the pavement, exposed tree roots, and the sound of your voice -
You call me out when I call you up.
I cut my hair and you changed your mind.
I drink black coffee to wash your taste out of my mouth.