As pure as the driven snow

by none

As pure as the driven snow

Perhaps it was the ocean air
infused into my lungs
or conceivably
the salty water that came in relations with my skin
day by day, all through summer
it left on my skin, my form, my emotions
I welcomed it
it welcomed me
we bonded despite our distinctions
bonded as the beams of light peaked mid afternoon
leaving lipstick kiss marks in the form of freckles
the hair on my skull became its canvas
constantly lightening what it had done the day before
it wrapped me, keeping me sultry.
it felt innocent, faultless.
it was vandalism.
a summer affair.