After midnight
fingers grip
chain link fence
dogs bark disapproval
as the moon frisbee
tosses across the lap pool
out of the mouth’s reach
a nervous unbuttoning
the quick unzip
time to see if our
puzzle pieces fit
a silky dark dip
tread water inside each other
arms and legs in full motion
throats croaking in the shadows
no galaxy in sight,
skinnydipping after midnight.
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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