scene, she says, scene, like motion,
like bright cars on dark nights
or rain on the roadway, scene:
a beautiful dream, an ocean
inside of a seashell inside of your ear,
pace, and great lust.

we are following the traffic
out of the city, stopped,
waiting and watching taillights blink.
her hands are long,
tapered fingers and a sharp, bright manicure,
big gestures and a loud voice.

scene, she says, like progress,
or the way we look back
and smile, scene like the studio
when there's a singer on a saturday night,
and the heels she walks in on,
slow, and so proud.