Halos in the Rain 12/5/24


ozone and diesel fumes
the click of high heels echoing
from the empty shops across the street
streetlights ringed by halos of rain
a hint of aftershave lingering
along with the touch of lips
warm and soft and salt
crying a goodbye
Head defiantly held walking in the wet and wind
avant-garde styled hair losing a valiant fight
primal patterns of streaked mascara
a night of loss and recklessness
A small café
an oasis for those alone
an even smaller table and a misted window
playing with the flame of a single candle
fingers yearning, daring to be burned
A pickup line, deeper than most
a long cool look
a man embodying flame
feeling the world tilting, not caring
words than imply far more than spoken

Would you like to share my table?

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