1981, she was sitting cross-legged

eyes squinted and glazed,

the smell of cannabis hanging about her

as she smiled her dazzling smile.

Foreigner played “Luann”

and I changed the words to match her name.

She was married, but, I loved her anyway

and I was sure she knew.

Her running shorts, showing her tan

and the thin tee that hid nothing.

She always distracted me

but, she was always there.

The glass cylinder in my hand

I winked openly at her and smiled.

She smiled back and blushed

her Texas accent pronounced;

I want to stay like this forever.

I nodded in agreement,

exploding smoke into the air

as everyone laughed.

She kissed me, once.

The day I got on the plane;

I carried that memory

thirty years.