a love poem for a frog

if i had to pick
between you and the commerce clause
i would pick
you
any day,
baby.

fermented grape juice

He peeled her thin arms from around his neck. He stood. Wavy hair. He brushed his hand across his forehead. He stepped forward, turned around and smiled at her. She sunk back into the couch, cuddled in the deepest layers of blanket, and held her wine glass up to her face. She looked at him through the glass, bent and red, cloudy.

“I love you.” he said. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

Then he was gone.