We’re
bicycling up
the steep hill
out of town
although it’s getting dark
and we should’ve
stayed
to meet the girls
at the sweet shoppe,
especially
the blonde wearing
a pinafore,
so blonde
her eyebrows dissolve
in her face.
       Someone
could’ve
introduced us, but,
no, we’re having to
peddle hard
against gravity,
against the pull
of her hands,
her light eyes
isolating mine,
promising soft things
in the valley,
long-range.
       We’re leaving
town lights
behind, tires
crunching
over the path
our headlights
keep insinuating
just ahead.

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Joseph Somoza lives in Las Cruces, New Mexico, with wife Jill, a painter. He's a retired English professor who now spends full-time writing. His most recent chapbook (with art by Jill Somoza) is "Clear Winter Days" (Santa Fe Poetry Broadside #38, SFPoetry.org). He has another chapbook, "Back Talk," coming from Coyote Books.
E-mail: jsomoza at nmsu dot edu  

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