Sinatra was singing
to the tune
of our seduction
the blasts of AC
chilled skin
in time with
the spreading
darkness
I pressed the sole
of my saddle shoe
onto the gas pedal
of a ’48 Ford De Luxe
& took to the sky
straight into a
potion-purple horizon
that burst profoundly
from between
the sky-teeth
of a white
cable-stay bridge
open to the night
you threw your arm
around my shoulder:
it was a moment
of cinematic truth
world-weary
we drove
down the last
gilded veins
of sunlight before
Moon River began
to play
