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A Poem by Maria Alves
Red Light Kisses
For the girl I loved all summer,
I hope not to love you for the rest of my life.
When we are at the junction
halfway between your house and mine.
When your day-old perfume
can only be smelt on the skin,
just above your neck.
I pepper your jaw with kisses
As if we have longer than we do
and curse the council
for the thousands spent
on sensors and their attack
on congestion-fuelled love.
Green.
My hand retreats
from its home in your thighs
to put the car in drive.
I reach for the solace of you
The pearls of summer months
enclosed in summer palms
My right-hand labours
under the pressure
of the odd signal, and steer.
There will be one more red light
between your house and mine.
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