A sultry summer night in August.
Crickets trill and the blue pool
water calms down. The hills smell
of Oleander and she lies there.
Her bikini inviting, a vermouth
with no ice. Tempting lifetime in
California. I need help, she says.

Try to get to where
I am, he says, not a lot
better but at least you try.
And drifts off. About time to
get your act together
not ask more questions
invite, so she sleeps soundly.

And cannot remember
her dreams, the rain.
What matters is not a lot
more than no ice
than to look outside
where hills, wealth,
blue in August.