April 21 - A Little Transparent

where the ground is striped
with bare dirt, and cement, and
sandy grass, right
where the sidewalk slants
to meet the curb

where the trees are distanced
evenly, lain down with
bricks and scattered over
with smog and wood
chips, here

he placed her like a
vase onto a shelf, filling
her eyes with roses
and his thin lips

catching her skin where
her dark hair met her
temple, slowly
parting,
thrilled her with a
brief soliloquy

she threw her arms
around his neck, let
them slide for her
hands to meet,

closer, closer

but seen through glass
where the lights recess
with the locking of windows

closing, closing

when I turned to you
to offer some coquettish relief
they had dropped to the
ground again, flickered
off into the street

petaline dust in their wake