These Desert Hills Poem by Ryan Cole

I walk through these desert hills

beside a highway

In the heat of the day

Here now, but not inside

Inside, I am in a cool place

an old place,

Sitting in an outdoor cafe

in the shivering cool of a drizzling day

on a cobblestoned street

with you

Drinking cheap Spanish wine

huddled in our tattered elegance

warm only in our closeness

and our secondhand coats

You, ageless beauty, still young

me, fading fast to some lesser thing

We would talk of art, words, and music

drinking cheap Spanish wine

on a cobblestoned street

in the drizzling cold

But no,

I am here, in these desert hills

and I have no idea where you are

in some outdoor cafe?

on a cobblestoned street

drinking cheap Spanish wine

with the man you love?

Perhaps so

And I am in these desert hills