Slipping Off to a Sand Dune
Moonlight on the sand dune
 sounds like the start of
 some silly romantic cliché.
 But there we sat 
 in the desert night,
as the air turned cool
 following the relentless heat.
Our bodies with a slight lean, 
 mine to the left,
 yours to the right,
 to mold ourselves together.
 Not in search of warmth
 but rather a function
 of a different kind of heat 
that stills burns after all this time.
So comfortable back in those days.
 What an incredible night
 lit by the moon
 and thousands of pinpricks
 of light from above.
 Oh! And hold on for another cliché
of the desert night.
For in the distance comes the yelp
and call of coyotes through the clear air.
Funny how those little scenes from the past,
 those special moments
 enmeshed in seemingly ancient memories
 can spring to life
 and not be part of the distant past
 but alive, real, and a part of this moment,
 of now.
 So real that I can breathe in the desert night
 and feel the warmth at my side.
 But wait, there’s more
 as the endless commercials say
 as they bring out the special offer.
 And what bonus do I have
 with this precious memory
 already too precious to require more?
 Oh, Lord. I can hear her now
 as she sings
 for she was always full of song.
 I hear the words,
 her voice soft, sultry
 as she sings a silly song
 with a desert theme. 
 What a strange song to be ours
 but it always was
 always will be.
 With talk of slipping off to a sand dune
 real soon.
 And not needing a camel
 “when I take you for a ride”.
 Silly song singing in my memory tonight
with coyotes for a backup role.
 Is there a point to all this?
 Some significant thought to pull it all together
 with a philosophical melding
 of the past and my present world?
 No. Not this time.
 Not this particular accumulation of words.
 No, this one is just touching a memory
 or letting it touch me. 
 Just a tiny slice of time
 brought to life for just a moment.
 Like a commercial to interrupt 
 my story in its live presentation. 
 And now, 
 back to our regularly scheduled program.
 Michael Mathews
 May 26, 2020
 10:25 AM Tuesday (after Memorial Day) 
 On the lake on this cloudy day 
					
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