"Old Royal Oak" by C.C. Apap

once, wandering a half-dressed, 

bare street—lithe and light, she 

led me to a bench. and forever

we sat in the warm dusk, before

I had the courage to kiss her.

her lips were clouds. heady,

dizzy in the ether, substantial

and as necessary as rain. later,

I walked that street from end 

to end. the bench was nowhere

to be found. the sky was clear;

summer seeped into dry ground.  

C.C. Apap grew up in the kind of Detroit suburb that had a functioning farm just over the back fence. His writing has been featured or is forthcoming in Dunes Review, Genuine Gold, Eunoia Review, and Belt Magazine.