supposition

So come on, then, and make love to me
the old-fashioned way,
with the flash of your eyes and the tender
press of your hand.

With really bad poetry, even.
As long as it’s from your heart,
and makes me laugh.

And we’re outdoors, in some suitably inspiring scene—
Beach, at a clear summer sunset.
Or moon rise over the darkened tree line, our breath misting the air.
In the fresh green grass, lying dizzy and stained from rolling downhill.
The sparkly creek, watching minnows explore our toes as we wade.
Snowball-fight aftermath, when we’re cold and wet and bedraggled
and laughing too hard to run anymore.

So come on, then, and make love to me
the old-fashioned way,
with a handful of forget-me-nots from the back woods
and sweet, sweet, tiny wild strawberries.