Tara Deal

Our anniversary and the city, blushing,
reappears at my front door, in dusk
and shades of rose, street unbuttoned, unruffled
by the risk in a breeze of nighttime perfume
just as all the pink trees down the side streets
have conspired to keep the birds quiet.

So why not go out
on the town
     pucker up and wait in line

with all the other lovers, laughing
     stumbling, loitering

before moving on and feeling
not hurt but stunned
by fish that flick, flicker next to fruit.