And with Her, the Stars Come Alive

The rooftop party where

cigarette smoke and car exhaust

drift up from the bustling street

clean air--a distant idea.

In the humidity of midsummer night,

bodies move in time to an electric beat

with sultry undertones of a woman's voice

murmuring words that graze over their bodies

like the caress of a lover.

Alone by the refreshments, a promise

made to yourself that after one drink, you'll leave.

An impact against your back loosens your grip

on your cup and it tumbles to the ground, marking

a liquid trail along your shirt and pants.

"Sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I was just leaving," you say. "No big deal."

You meet your assailant's eyes as she looks up

to you with a frown and worry clear on her face,

but you only see the way the strings of lights

reflect in her sea green eyes to create a new

galaxy that pulls at your heart and begs

you to explore its depths.

"On second thought, have a drink with me?"

Leaving is the last thing on your mind.