The rains from this afternoon
and the days before have filled t
he space behind the parking lot.
-the beachfront she says - stretching her arms - look at the stars,
the almost full moon she says lifting her head.
We are still talking a bit before we get into our cars.
About the game tomorrow, the couple we just spent some time with inside....
The couple in the restaurant talked about Colorado,
Washington have made it legal.
The television screen lit up Michigan and Maine.
He lifts his pool cue case from the floor
points at the green plants in pots above the tables.
"Felonious" she says of the greyhound Exacta.
"Ice Cream" he says of
the dead restaurant parlor crooner with his sidekick Cookie.
"Chocolate chip" she offered, hearing the story.
"Ice cream or cookies" we asked meaning the chips.
The restaurant started to dim.
The jukebox was silent.
A small vacuum sung out from the corner,
under a painting of black horses and green trees.
"No", she said. "Chocolate sometimes scares me. Unless it is sweet or smooth"
They leave and I step outside and
the girl who speaks about the moon and stars follows me.
"Beach front property" she says,
the rains have come.
"Look at the sky and the moon and the stars".
The ember of her cigarette glows
like a jewel in the pristine sands of
the pacific waters that wait down the highway
under a moon filled with felonious stars.