we burst wintergreen mints: single, cold,
white flickering with hospital green.  one
laid on the rumpled surface of each set of
back molars, cracked and chewed with
open-mouthed precision; i stared into the
deepness of her mouth now sparking with 
flashes of lime, the outset of throat
caught stop-gap in the strobe of her teeth.

the sky was cloudless, black; the breathing
of the stars interrupted only by the touching
of pant legs in walking, the curl of leaves
underfoot, the drawing in of sap for the
winter; uninterrupted except for the rustling
of teeth pulping wintergreen mints in
the damp grass.

we ran back in the dark, paths heavy with
swaying flashlights that pulled saplings
into our feet, branches and the rugged
leaves of autumn weaving into our way.
i stared at the inside of my eyelids with the
intention of sleeping; flashbulb mouths and
time-lapse trees carrying fast over my view.