David Cazden
Photo: yoppy
Behind us, flashes of car windshields
off the streets, students
awaiting plates of food.
We float conversation
while the sky encircles us
without a cloud.
Behind the backdrop
of bright blue diner curtains,
stars swerve in daytime arcs.
I sip ice tea. Sali twirls
her hair in knots and swirls,
weaving a story with her hands,
each word a tuft of hair–
Strands of yellow, russet,
tell me where to go today
in syllables intricate and foreign
as the dances
of the summer bees.
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