Between the last customer
and morning light
in the parking lot of the Korean Gentleman's Club,
he picks lilacs for me.
Standing high against a warehouse wall,
these always bloom early, and
he goes annually, covertly, in the still dark,
unsure of welcome by the
He fills the car.
I imagine that damp, spring-scented ride home,
his fantasy of being busted for predawn lilac theft,
the evidence transferred to the squad car,
covering him and his lovely guilt
entirely, the police becoming drunk on the
heady enclosed amore of fragrance
and driving him home instead,
helping us get out all our vases,
filling them while the coffee brews.
Peg Edera, from Love is Deeper Than Distance