The sun is lowering in the sky
Making golden the ale in my glass
And the curls atop your head a halo.
Chicken grilled on wooden skewers
Have scented the air with oil and herb
And left burnt bits on your shiny lips
That are washed away with foam
Every time you take a sip of beer.
You smile at me over the rim
Knowing I am waiting to watch
You suck foam from your upper lip.
You exaggerate the lick and tease me
Before switching to your bottom lip.
You let that lip roll slowly from your teeth
And I nearly choke, which makes you laugh.
When I stop coughing and you stop laughing
You lean across the table and kiss me,
And kiss me.
The setting sun bursts between our
Mouths when we part and I am blinded but
I can still feel your breath on my tongue.
Taking your head in my hand
I pull your mouth back onto mine
And suck the sun from your lips.