She's incredible,
short-skirt wearing, flaming, something.
Actually she makes me really angry most of the time,
but we work together.
As friends.
As something else.

I told you it was complicated.
And unconsciously we keep setting up the perfect situations
lying in bed cheek to cheek, twined, holding hands
for hours
and days
and nights
and mornings,
my lips graze her shoulder comfortably,
and she sighs.
Our bodies fit.
At least we know that much.
A puzzle with missing pieces.

We go swimming naked,
peeling off clothes in a pile in the grass,
'til there are no layers of skin left.
We slip in shyly at first,
into the pool at night with the moon whispering,
with the sprinklers on,
with the cop station behind the pool.
We pretend we are mermaids,
laughing,
from the water.
We stay for hours,
and then jump the fence,
back home.
Walking on concrete, it's summer.

The garage door inside creaks horribly,
shooting spikes of adrenaline as we tip-toe inside.
We are mermaids.