We sway
against music sloshing
between our temples
watch:   the soft pulse
a sea of moss green
points riddle the air
above the darkened field

soft-bodied entities
and their beguiling flares
approach         but with caution
invitation to cling, expire
never in our backyard childhood
have we seen so many

speckling the dark
with Morse code dots
the tender light let out 
in poised pursuit --
sky inks onyx-blue
beyond tall grasses

and the night is warm
our bare city feet
skim the dew, find
traction in considering

if our far-away loves can see
this tidal of wanting
in the kindle of insect hearts
enough to signal back
through the ever-present 
beacons of our phones

meanwhile we attempt speech
my confused tongue
canters ahead of me
as I melt 
into the grass

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