Dumb luck, all this: the nineteenth floor and us,
the bar, the vintage lamps and U-shaped couch:
we give each other haircuts and we plan
to go to Seoul and Budapest and Buenos
Aires: at the Indiana Dunes
we eat potato salad and skip stones:
sweet pickles make the difference. Summerful.
Cornfields quilt the drive to Michiana
from Chicago: no, a lie: but one
that smacks of Midwest summer and its humid
golden muck: we get engaged and fuck
with the air conditioner on, then eat Italian
food on a patio once the sun has cooled:
smooth burrata, wine good and unsweet.
