In an open-roofed car in a splintered-sky city

Boy told Girl she was looking quite pretty.

But really, he didn’t, but, oh, how she wished

As they stood in the line to the heart of the city.

With half-parted lips and half-open eyes

Neither would breach the unspoken guise,

But, oh, how he wished she’d just flutter her lips

As she longed for the minute he’d part his pursed eyes.

The sun-beaten upholstery warmed their desires

As the Plexiglas windows reflected the fires

Inside. But the lights were just asphalt-veiled gems

On the freeway of impossibles and dreams and desires.

Her thin hands rested lightly on her pistachio skirt;

His fingers graced the wheel, he loosened his shirt.

In the ruby light of traffic, she smoothed down his collar

But with a jolt retreated to the calm pleats of her skirt.

He ran a hand through his hair as she toyed with her finger

But in an instant time froze as the caravan would linger

As he found his hand running through her tresses of garnet

As she found her thin hand entwining his finger.

Then—the procession lurched skyward as their psyches did too;

As the light on the dashboard struck an emerald hue.

Into the city, into the heavens, into Nirvana they sped

The open-roofed car, and the boy and girl, too.