Adults

We wade in icy water to our chests,
playing hookey from routine,

sun setting behind you in shades
I’ve only seen in expensive paint.

But it’s your eyes,
gleaming, green-blue orbs,

wide reflections
that may well contain the world,

looking straight into me,
and your mouth

parted in laughter, in joy,
in unadulterated —

Adultery.

There’s that word again, the only
thing that contaminates

the warmth radiating through me,
warmth in places long forlorn,

warmth that stands now
in stark contrast to the sea.

I wish I didn’t know, didn’t have
intimate experience with

the devastation, the consuming,
the shattering effects of that word.

I don’t want that for you.
So I dip my head

and swallow the ocean
to quell the flame.