For Rio, Leaning

In the sunglasses you bought
at Venice Beach
against a mural of Chaplin
in indigo and turquoise
jeans rolled up above the ankle

Did you know I rolled
and smoked
one cigarette a night
after you fell asleep
during our cross-country drive?

Sometimes the silence in the car
reminded me of the silence in
the car I shared with my father
when I was sixteen, only
this time I was holding the wheel

Now, we share a pitcher
walk the Pacific coast
colors deepen after the ocean
swallows the sun. Orange,
purple, pink just being pink