Our Straw Hats

Southern summers. Chemistry in any temperature.

He sat there with his straw hat on. The late afternoon forming beads beneath the brim. 

 Cold brew in his hand. 

 Our summers were uncomfortable but... we organically cooled one another.

 One look. I was placed in shade. One smile and I felt cool mist on my skin. The ability to cause chemical changes in the air around me changed my belief system. 

We are not scientists. Nor chemists. 

The march of my atoms frolic towards his. We are bonded in ways words can't define. 

I am a chemist then. Now. I determine.  

I have created. 

We discovered. 

The perfection of the look. The electricity. Like wind. Invisible. 

Summer nights and wild flowers in a mason jar. 

I write poetry as the breeze reaches our brims. I am wearing a straw hat too.