High heels,

a wind-swept dress,

hair abandoned in the wind.

And as she delicately sweeps it

from her face

she laughs to herself

as we both enter the store

at the same time.

“Whew, it’s awful out there,” she says,

smiling.

“Yes, it is,” I say,

shyly.

She turns and looks at me,

for a moment too long,

as my warm face slips to vermillion

because her eyes are like

sapphirine prisms,

and I cannot utter another word.

“Well, have fun shopping,” she says,

knowingly.

“You to,” I say,

walking toward the oranges and bewilderment.