—I GOT SOUL BUT I’M NOT A SOLDIER

 

 

Orion

 

There was nothing left to say, so they kissed while the voyeur moon loomed overhead like a nosy neighbor waving a spatula. 

She had seashells from the tropics in her handbag, dainty yet thick as curved toenails. Her good luck charms.

He had three foreign coins in his pocket, copper orbs from his military grandfather who told him to keep these nearby whenever a major decision was imminent. 

When they kissed some more, the clouds huddled like a sports team out of breath but hell-bent on winning, finishing hard. 

A star peeked through them, bright as translucent snow, then winked and winked, and winked some more.

“I think—” he said, but she shushed him with another urgent kiss and upraised finger, firm, yet soft as Cool Whip, which took him out at the knees, and then far out of his head.

They named the first baby Venus. And the next Luna. And the next Orion. And the next…