Sitting by the shore,
you read intently,
on your small, gentle nose
rested large glasses
of dark bakelite.

Our eyes met,
and I approached.
“How fortunate is the sun
that it can kiss your fair skin,”
I said.

“Scientifically,
it’s irradiating me,”
you replied distractedly.

“I see light rivulets
like dewdrops
sliding down the hollow
of your delicate neck,”
I continued confidently.

“Scientifically,
I’m evaporating,”
you corrected me sternly.

Then you stepped into the water,
wonderful,
like a Venus,
and your body
cooled.

“Scientifically,
it’s called convection,”
you shouted as you emerged from the sea.

Fuck you and thermodynamics.