The clouds
Were surreal
That day.
Whipping cream,
Shaving cream,
Smoke
From a giant’s pipe
Drifting
Away.
“What color is the sky?”
I asked
The artist
in you.
“Blue,” you replied.
“I know that!
I mean what shade?”
“Sky blue,” you said.
And indeed it was.
Margaritas,
Chips,
Small broken pieces
Dropping
From hungry fingers.
I said,
“ I love you.”
You said,
“ I love you, too,
very much.”
A fly
Lingered.
You turned
My empty glass
Upside down
To protect it -
To protect me.
Breeze shuffled
Palm branches
Above.
It was
Just us
And the clouds
At that
Mexican restaurant
Down the street
Back when you
Loved me.
