Asphalt and Skin

The smell of rain on hot asphalt

and suddenly, it’s that night.

Humid, thick, without fault,

under a broken streetlight.

We were young, reckless, lost,

finding a temporary peace

in a room that counted the cost,

a cheap motel, no release.

But skin on skin, the rough bedspread,

the shared breath, the urgent need.

Every word that wasn't said,

planted a potent seed.

It wasn't just a moment,

though moments pass and fade.

It was the whole endowment,

a promise that was made.

And I remember the feel of it still.