As a city boy will

an untrafficked road
in a baking hot summer,
my girlfriend’s ribcage
floats with pictures
of dandelions. I see her
undressed in the morning,
her body quite beautiful, florid
and thorny, a thicket
on an unmaintained rain-
gutter; an over-hot,
storm-tended street.
drinking, her friend
shows his marks off,
and asks me
“why wouldn’t you
match her tattoos?”
I grin, run my fingers
down conifered elbows,
enjoying the foliage
as a city boy will.