summer goodbye

On the last day
she wore a dress—egg yolk yellow
French perfume
and blood stilettos.

Sunlight poured itself
into all the crevices.

She pressed her knees
into his; 
and the breeze whipped around them
in lemon-yellow waves.

She said she was afraid
of Life in this City,
said she loved thunderstorms,
said goodbye
in not so many words.

After that he sold the motorcycle,
stopped smoking,
and took up golf.
Squinting on the highway
In his saloon car, he was
Left wondering why the sun in his eyes
made him cry.

–Cecilia Lim
06/04/2006

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my world, out of your reach

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