When we pulled over on account of the romantic landscape

we stopped the car
and looked at the meadow with its wildflowers
like stars the earth sweetly wove into her hair
our veins were woven together where our hands silently met
and we opened our doors to play this scene we had rehearsed in dreams

the air was hot like a slap
and left our ears ringing with the buzz
of countless insects rising from the field in waves
like the heat of the black asphalt at our backs
the heat of this incessant romance, almost a choking
each molecule of air cased in sweat
sweet as it was, we left it at that.