It was 112 today
and you were standing
on the clean, new floors-
a honey brown like from way back
home (I'm not sure if I'll
get used to this place. It's hot here and I miss
the woods)
you held an ice tray in your
hand,
and you told me you had
woke the night before,
for a moment,
from a dream where it were if you'd never
    met me
so in the desert night, the fan blowing on my face, you grabbed my shoulder
as I was dead in sleep-

to make sure that I was
there
   then you asked me,

your bare feet on the
new, cold floor
  if I wanted a Mai Tai
  
you opened the orange
***