Behind the hysterical bark of a car-chasing terrier
Ada emerges from the High Street Station.
Her eyes emit their genteel music,
her colored wind greeting him.
They sat watching a small pocket of trees
all alone amongst the concrete.
She favors his artsy crew
sailing through sunken dreams
rising like birds upwards over a mountain.
Her warm hands felt like braille in the night
bringing his atrophic fingers to a fervent rouse.
Their droopy eyelids scintillate
sharing tales of the jazz age
sleepy from nostalgia's absent father.
A bit of cigarette falls from his sweater
sheepishly embracing her goodbye.
You dear, silly, man you.
Voice trailing towards the F train,
a colorful gust following her down the steps.