Bring me lemons and mint, a pitcher’s fishbowl
loaded with ice and slices of cucumber,

a Tom Collins in a tumbler, the fizz of it.
Give me sulphur summer heat, tarry sidewalks,

a tired hydrant geysering over the street,
a plane ticket to the Virgin Islands or Madrid

and Saturday languor, bedsheets wicking away
sweat after sex, buy me a highball from a hotel bar

in another hemisphere, book me a room
at the Savoy or the Ritz, play me sweet low cello

or Carmen McRae, pour me a glass of Beaujolais,
give me an argument I can sink my teeth into all week,

learn how to dig in your heels, for god’s sake,
slap me clean across the face with Riviera breeze,

and above all, take note of all the things I say –
pull me closer, push me away.

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