everyone
looks younger
in love.

we haven’t been
there much,
lately. i count

crows
feet around
your coronaries,

the hard-ish wrinkles
over my veins.
we need more red,

re-awakened
part-sun days,
thornless. river-

mud between
our toes, not
rose but rust-gold

long(ing)-
fingered lenses
through which

all the world
seems wetter and
better for it,

like spring,
like summer
in a mirror

in a cabin
on a side street
by the ocean, yes.

everyone
looks younger
in love.