We did it just like
the Belgians
we
slept there
on
the Belgium grass
zipped
up inside your green tent
with
secrets
like
the one where I kissed your lips
when
mine should have stayed dry
my
heart felt like it threw up in my lungs
every
time you left the tent
as
I laid there naked
drenched
in sweat
the sun blazed through the nylon
and you would return
with
a baguette or two
depending
on how you sweet talked the French boy
and
we would just lie there unzipped in your sleeping bag
tangled
like the small black spiders that
dangled
from the corners
you told me you would eat them
words
that tricked me into your arms
but
every night we left that tent
to
disappear into larger ones
I lost him every night
till
we would climb back into the bag
with
our secrets
and
all I wanted was to
share
with the world what we shared inside the tent
but
the last day arrived
you
left without a kiss without a goodbye
just
the tent on your back
