Deep green

I bent over
and under the table
to pick up your
hairspin
along with
a little of your skirt

A magnificent sight
of a world of legs

And up there was you
with your
neverending smile
where my
loneliness
should have been

Your lips
melted in red wine

the grapes
from a distant
fresh Chilean campo verde

the rouge of your cheeks
and the green of your eyes

Tonight
I might as well
be
colorblind.

And it was sometime
in July.
Some details I can't remember.

But still
I have a feeling
You never
let go
of my hands.