I just knew. On the passenger side of his little Nissan, clothes pinned to the visor, a three of spades. I query him. His broad face, round, smiles. Knowing that sometimes you just know things.
Summer solstice is one moon arears.
John the Beloved and I walk the Galveston boardwalk. John the Beloved is drunk on a pitcher of beer. We weave a bit, I twirl a bit, allowing my short mini dress to expose my thonged buttocks. I pull away, John the Beloved moves, steps forwards. He stops and stares at me.