East Camino Revisited

It’s somewhere between Saturday and Sunday,
I’m in my 20’s, barely sober and freezing. I can smell the cold, mixed with sage and eucalyptus.

Winter comes sooner at elevation, my companion and I are under dressed because it’s hot downtown.

The cloud cover that lay at our feet like spilled mercury is holding down the warm air as well as blocking out the city lights.
The hood of the car is an island of warmth in the black sea of space. I don’t know her name, she was in the wedding.

I don’t remember there ever being this many stars.
Their numbers are staggering.

They dance and sparkle all around, all the brighter for the crisp fall air.
What seems to be a whisp of cloud above us is in fact the milky way.

There are so many stars we can’t pick out constellations.
Our eyes track a satellite pass until we lose it in the blinding glare of Saturn.

Her silky voice breaks the silence, “Tell me again why you left?”