What transpired in the park

If I had pushed you the right way, you would have swung perfectly on your heel, like a door on a hinge. 
I could see it stiffening your shoulders. . .arms. . .legs. . .
sucking the saliva from your trembling mouth and air from your lungs
as your heart could no longer control its wild rhythm.

Though mine was matching yours in a sprint of pumping madness,
on the outside I was calm, practiced.
Tingling fingertips concealed by experience
and so I could recognize it in you.
As our young lips touched awkwardly at first--swollen in expectation like airbags that had been released from only the threat of impact
teeth touching--like antique china plates stacked in the box we accidentally dropped on the concrete
and finally. . .
exploring with tongues through soft tunnels and damp caves in the dark
we exhale and relax into each other.