On Sunlight and Tomatoes The winter sun is forgiving today, and you are julienning the tomatoes in the kitchen. There is something in the air this evening, and it is worth singing about. In the sunlight spilling across the cutting board, your hands seem forgiven. I sneak up behind you, my hands around your waist, and kiss the back of your neck. You are still here. You are still here. This is us making love. This is us slow dancing. I wish we never run out of tomatoes. I wish