you and i

You and I
shall first be friends
talking of cinema and sports
over lattes in coffee-scented air,
dining with other friends
anywhere and everywhere
crunching dry leaves underfoot
sharing secrets only
you and I
and the fall trees shall know.

And someday
you and I
will drive north-side of the state
and after sun has set
drive far from town light
and through the gate
into the fields of just-cut grain
park my car
and spread the old goosedown comforter
on the packed dirt.

And as the stars rise
and we lay under the endless dome of black sky
heads propped on balled blankets
eyes adjusting
we shall talk of anything
and everything
of Vulcan and Venus
of Hera and Zeus
and I shall try to remember if Saturn is Kronos
and Neptune is Poseidon
and you shall say yes, and query
Athena’s Roman name.

And as the soft crickets sing
and thumbnail of white moon shines
I shall reminisce of my grandmother
calling satellites ‘he’
and Andromeda ‘she’
and you shall smile and point out
Orion and his belt.

And as the velvet breeze brushes our faces
soothing and dry
and the Big Dipper shines
we shall speak of dreams
I of publishing
and justice
and adventure
you of something
I know not yet
but someday will.

And as faint clouds of the Milky Way
texture the sky
and satellites flit across the black
and as the night grows cooler,
you shall smile and hand me your jacket
and I will smell the spice of your cologne on my shirt.

And as meteors shine for an instant and vanish
planes dart across the sky
constellations wheel round
shooting stars flash
I dare a wish already true
that perhaps
you and I
shall fall
in love