In cursive,

they'd said.

Trace your tongue

to the rhythm of your name

And he won't ever forget it

I wonder if he'd heard the same

Advice

I wonder if they'd considered 

How different our names were

There we sat,

atop the rock.

In hopes of a sky full of stars.

But the moon, that bastard,

shined too brightly

drowning out what should have been ours.

So instead

we rested our heads

onto the rock-hard sedimentary ground.

The air, thick with stillness,

cradled our intertwined bodies

as coyotes howled all around.

Closer and closer,

until our faces were inches apart,

eyes shining and holding the bind.

As I rambled on, you interrupted

"You're so weird," you whispered,

then lowered your lips onto mine.