The barbed wire is cold
under the Colorado moon.
I choose a dwarf fence post to lean.
Nothing is said but starlight.
The moon does amazing things
to the horizon.
Cautious footsteps
and sultry musk
approach from behind.
Nothing said but a nod.
The moon does amazing things
to the midnight air.
Wind whispers across the brush
as you choose a post nearby.
The wire no longer seems cold.
Nothing said but a smile.
The moon does amazing things
to dusty blue eyes.
At a naked interval in the wire
our fingers entangle.
Our limbs follow.
Nothing said but a kiss.
The moon does amazing things
to your taste.
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