& gods, if it ain’t
a beautiful one—

teenage sun like a boy
at a middle school dance

sticking to his side
of gymnasium sky,

eager trees nudging
his elbows

with whispers
like the wind,

“You got this!”
He blushes pink

behind clouds—
a couple racing, below

the hours and years
to memory moment.

DJ Poet uncrosses his legs
crossing his fingers.