Summer Storms


I ran into him in the village.

A cloud of shadows swirled about us

in the twilight.

His midnight blues held me.

His peppermint shirt was my gift.


“You look so good,” he said.

“You never change.”


We caught up on things.

But I didn’t tell him I was seeing

someone else,

that I was in a daze, in shock,

at the miracle of loving someone new.


His face was a golden mirage,

darkening now like the night.


He walked away from me,

still arousing summer storms,

then turned around and shouted,

for the boulevard to hear:


“If you want to get married,

let me know!”


I called back to him,

pointing to a clearing in the sky.

“You’ll see it written there . . .”


That’s all I said.

That’s all he said.

It was enough.


What are you looking for?