Damp Hands In Dirt

I have been making out with my coffee cup when I drink from it again. Springtime is here, and I've been slipping in the practice anywhere I can in preparation or daydream of the endless crushes I have this time of year. It's not just people I have crushes on. I fall in love with every proud bloom showing me its cleavage from the gardens I walk past; the laugh lines on the faces of every friendly bus driver. I have afternoon romances with the sun on my stomach, and the part of my forearm that catches the drip of my multi-scoop cone. I fan myself from the flirt of the soil collectively turning over on its back to show the world how alive it is.