The benches around the fountain
have been occupied by lovers.
They resist invasion from families
finished with late-evening dinners.
A young woman unravels an older man like a knitted sweater.
She rubs his back like he’s been in a war.
He resurfaces from her neck, face flushed, glasses askew.
She straightens his clothes and leads him away.
The little girl who’s been lunging for the water
escapes from her parents.
She makes it into the fountain,
diaper and all.
Word Prompt: moxie