We held hands in a Safeway, shopping aimlessly
hungry for nothing in particular save a Cup-o-Noodles
but too much sodium. I thought I might want cookies
and we wandered over to the milk to get a gallon.
A school group walked in, flanked by teachers in ill-fitting
skirt suits. We were in pajamas. You tussled your hair.
It wasn’t the time we thought it was.
The children whisked me to the side deli
to help them with their homework.
I looked for you above little sets of shoulders.
Points added, blanks filled in, I called your name,
patting the children on the head as I left
to wander the aisles. Where did you go?
Twenty minutes I looked, till outside,
the sun setting pink and purple over the desert silhouette
I found you outside a Mexican restaurant, Flamingo.
We held hands, and the gravel crunched as we walked,
dirt road, cool night, sunset, pajamas.