The wind blows
through her hair and mine.
My thumb rubs her shiny new ring in my pocket,
she eats her melting twist in a cone without a clue.
The time is right,
the sun is setting.
The lake reflects back on us,
the pink-sky smiles at our perfect moment.
I go for it,
My knee presses on dirt and rocks,
I stutter, she smiles,
My stomach rumbles,
my ice cream exacts its revenge.
a terrible time to be intolerant to lactose…
The wind blows,
but not from the sky…
The hot gas escapes,
traveling down my new jeans…
A fart? Now? Seriously?
She yells, throwing her ice cream down,
you just had to ruin our perfect moment.
Graphic created by Ian Saunders