Summer Came Around

I'm exhausted by conversation.
Too tired for conflict.
Greedy for gelato.
Yearning for the sea.
Desperate for shade.
I don't leave the apartment because there's no where I'd rather be.
I pass time - hours - sitting naked in my empty bathtub on the phone with him. We're hot. Our phones are burning our ears, we know when enough is enough, when it's time to say goodbye, but it's so hard to hang up. Finally, we do, and my mind's on him for the rest of the day. I play love songs and memorize: The cadence of his voice. How his native Brooklyn tongue has been softened by years spent down south. The muscles I was surprised to find. His sneakers by some obscure Japanese company - I want my own pair. The bursts of laughter (he laughs at my jokes?). Oh! And the man smells so good! I can't help but nibble.
I guess I shouldn't fuss over which direction this could go. He's nice and I'm content. As Maria Full of Grace told me over the weekend, "Just go."