Golden Hour

Parked your car in the lot across from the grocery store. Not sure if we’re allowed to loiter when there’s no plan to shop but surely no one will notice in a town as sleepy as ours. Just a few minutes of hurry up and wait or whichever phrase best describes the anticipation. Squinty eyed doing my best to fight my disposition is this why I have those little lines forming toward the edge of my face? Naked eyes sound like they could be fun but not for me not tonight. Tell me how much longer we have before our time is up. A glance at your watch a furrow in your brow fool me with your best guess. Is it minutes, is it more? I hear they last as long as you wish for them to. Something about nonlinear time. We keep patient waiting for the sun to take its daily migration or are we the ones moving while it stays put? Bits of both if I’m remembering correctly. I keep close to the story I’ve made up. The one in which the two grow apart then back together, over and over like an endless dance. Neither stepping too far in the opposite direction. Nothing to break the hold of the orbit or however you’re imagining they align. Here comes the hour when the buildings look like they’ve been dipped in gold. Just a thin layer the kind you can see through but know is there you know the kind? Even the light entering the front windshield can trick your eyes into seeing blonde hairs where the greys used to be. Don’t let your senses fool you though. The reflection in the rearview mirror is bright and it’s bringing me to tears not the sad kind just the kind that come with too much of a good thing.