April 2
Richly colored night (after a quote by Van Gogh)
There was a time when
drinks in sunrise shades
colored shy conversation.
Morning, the last thing
on our minds, always came
too soon, too bright, loud.
Walking back to your place
or mine, even the puddles
threw rainbows back at us.
My hair was long and red,
yours: plentiful. The moon
washed across our bodies.
Thousands of nights passed,
we shut the shades, put kids
to bed, fell into dark dreams.
Now we are alone again,
almost strangers. Unfamiliar,
uncomfortable, unsure.
The city streets are better lit,
angled, arched in yellow,
spattered with flash of neon.
In the old cafe, orange glow
paints our faces smooth, young,
we remember how to be foolish.
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