Beside Me In the Traffic

The city's august hell-heat choking lungs and stinging eyes, stranded car and driver hoods agape spew boiling geysers to a summer sky. And we, as cattle going to market slowly inch our way toward the promise of relief. Beside me in the traffic I (with shutter-camera eye) briefly caught the image of a sister of the search. Her eyes were your eyes were eyes of longing and wonderment. The city's august hell-heat now unnoticed faded into memories of a summer long ago when we, beneath a backyard cherry tree, would speak of transcendental Love and Truth. Your queries were more answer than question, your requests, an unexpected gift that like the sylvan canopy above my head gave refuge from a singeing inner heat.