Blue Takes Forever

He was wearing this
very blue shirt and something
was immediately wrong.
I stopped
rearranging the coffee
cups. Blue
takes forever,
I thought
and started laughing
at the wind
in my pointy red shoes.
So much and
too hard.

When all I wanted
was listening
to the kitchen
and not
thinking
about the maze
of dislocated tones
between the tiles.

Maybe I was
making too much
noise. The rhythm
was great, though.
Just the words
were messed up.

Concordance,
showing up
between the choked
geraniums
on the window sill,
moved
the scene along.
It was hard telling
one step
from the other.

But then we went to the movies.