104 Degrees

I saw her in a dream exiting the bookstore lobby

Sitting on a bench on Baltimore and reading Murakami

Slipping salt beneath the sun, her hands now tying up her hair

One pair of deeply tinted shades reflects my unbelieving stare

And at once

I am taken

She asked me what I wanted as if one ever really knew

And I said dull domestication free from pressure to pursue

Another love, another touch, another tired conversation

And then she shut her novel sharply and proposed a new location

And at once

I obliged

Details for a new protest adorn white printer paper fliers

She says I feel so old admitting counter culture makes me tired

She leads me into the cafe, her intention is exact

It is 104 degrees, she takes her coffee hot and black

And at once

I am entranced

She suggests we settle down, meaning settle down for good

She knows the perfect place on Martha Street in her old neighborhood

And then a taxi sounds a horn, and it is full of all our things

And it is parked outside the cafe, and the driver sounds incredibly

Impatient

When we merge onto the freeway she rolls her window down completely

The driver dials into a station, and then she smiles at me discreetly

She says, I love this song, then turns away and tracks the clouds

The driver curses with conviction while Heavy Metal Drummer plays us out