madrid

we met in Madrid

not the one in Spain

but the one 
just outside of
Barstow, California

she'd broken down

become a mixed bag  

of emotions
loud and tender
venting steam 

near her car 
fleeing home                      

she was tall and tan

blonde and alone

new to the desert                       
a prickly blossom
not a cactus 
or rose a bloom

but pure bougainvillea

and fit to be tied 

I accommodated her
in a dusty motel room
where we shared secrets 
and towels
until breakfast
eating pigs in a blanket

and sipping weak
much too sweet
coffee 

we waited sleepy
through the morning
exchanging kind nods
with the locals
waiting for the late
FedEx van 
to pull up 
with a radiator hose clamp
to mend her rented Audi a5

driving through 
late morning                               

two lane mirages
the top down
sunglasses on 

speeding towards Fresno

where she booked
a flight for two

with connections
to Madrid

the one in Spain
where I'm waiting
slightly buzzed
at the Piazza cafe             

with a single red rose

a bottle of Madeira, and a ring

-dp-
 1-26-15