One of those blithe summer afternoons that used to last forever
biking up Prospect Street for dinner and a movie

the trees along the street like affectionate cousins
eager to discuss family secrets

I say: the air is so tender it seduces you into believing
that a kelson of the creation is love

he says: we’ve evolved to feel good at moderate temperatures
such as this and uncomfortable when it is hotter or colder

I say: it appears we are actually coexistent with the universe
like salt in water and smoke in atmosphere

he says: maybe so
being a scientist he hedges his bets

being a scientist he pursues the reality beneath the surface
being a poet so do I

we brake our bikes at a light and I quietly look at him
the light changes and we cross

these summer afternoons go by so much more quickly now.