Mid-Summer Day Dreams

His camera phone just finished recording, 

The cars that stood still, 

The horns that beeped, 

He set his story, 

Traffic woes he called it, 

He looked out the window, 

Saw hawkers with toys, 

Made in China, 

And that's when he saw her, 

Her hair, 

Not flying of course, 

Because of the helmet,

Her hair, 

What was left of it anyway, 

On her slender collarbone, 

She frantically gets that helmet out, 

And her hair,

Still didn't fly, 

Well, it was mid-summer, 

Let's just say she was lucky she didn't have an odor,

She seemed to be crying, 

While looking at her eye in the mirror, 

Must've been the dust,

Or a moth, 

But for him,

It was the chance that the traffic gods had granted to him, 

He grabbed the bottle of water, 

Opened that door, 

And ran toward her, 

Slowly loosening up that cap, 

The pressure and the heat escaping, 

From the bottle in his hands, 

He offered it to her, 

She looked at him, 

And put it on her without hesitation, 

And when she was done, 

The cool breeze that came from nowhere 

Made them both smile.

 

-Yet Another Thing