Maybe in Mexico

I’d be walking by the ocean while the sky darkened

and the bars grew noisy.  Someone I used to love would find me

after long years.  He’d invite me to his house with a blue door

opening on the garden, and we’d dance together in starlight

under the jacaranda tree.

Or maybe the door itself would be enough.  Or a courtyard

with a fountain  and the possibility of parrots.

An orphanage advertising its need for a storyteller,

a chair with a certain cushion,

two apricots held out to the sun –

it doesn’t take much to make you want to change your life.

Clerk of the Hours, you must live somewhere

and somewhere you dole out our time.

Come on, throw me a peach or an orange.

Something sweet and unforgettable.

It doesn’t have to last long.

Charlotte Muse