Seventeen in August

 

Seventeen in August
Thick soup air, sweat slick on my neck
bleachers half-full, half-dead
but you—number seventeen
blazing through the glare,
every sprint steals the ground from me Crowd noise folds flat
world tilts when you turn Love hit like a blindside concussion—
vision swimming, legs gone,
just you
every goal a bright painting nailed in the sky
above this cracked small-town field
I’m spinning in the electric blue of your eyes Halftime: orange peels, crushed cups
you jog over—grass stuck to scuffed knees
crooked grin
“Your heart’s hammering”
It is. It wants to run Bus home, windows cracked, night slow
knee against knee, low streetlight glow
your fingers push through damp hair
cool sparks down my scalp
every nerve erased Love hit like August heat
couldn’t breathe, couldn’t stand
just you
still dizzy in that blue
still frozen when you touch my hair Seventeen
you on the field
me off my feet
hearts thrumming
in the sticky dark