Two lovers lay in the dry California grass
Miles from anyplace--
One had never kissed a woman like the one in her arms,
And the other had never kissed a woman at all...
Not like this
Not with intention
Not without a second thought
Not because she needed to.
"Kissing you," whispered the first,
"Is like kissing the curve of the night sky in summer.
The stars are just confectioner's sugar
And you are always to be mine."
The second spoke no reply, but curled herself around her lover
Like a vine that grows after sunset
And by morning is so much part of the arbor
That there is no more distinguishing lover from beloved.
For what happened after that,
Some say the Santa Anna winds were to blame;
Others say they saw two women walking hand in hand
Easy and slow before an all-consuming wall of flame.