Solera

Solera

After the film at the Cinema, he

asks Do you want to go home,

or…?  She smiles, Or, what?—

thinking how it is, eight years

into our marriage, it’s still so

much like dating, on the weekend—

deciding to go one more place—

then one more, before going home.

They grab the last table at Solera,

He orders a Kava and a Cab;

the bartender nods, brings the

bubbly white to her, the red to him.

They smile and nod to the other

customers, happy the place is full

but not crowded.  They take in the

chill music, talk about the film, their

cat, plans for Sunday, mindlessly reading

the signs across the street:  Kitchen Bathroom

Additions, S&A Food Mart – Beer. Pop. Snacks.

Cigarettes.  Jackson Hewett Tax Preparers. 

Personal FX Hair Salon, Thread.  Nothing fancy.

Down the street is Sax Avenue, Mise En Place,

The herb place that’s always closed, Head’s Up

Hat Store, Open Face, Godiva’s vintage shop,

Hedonist Chocolate. Now that is fancy. It

does not matter. They are not in Cornhill,

not on Park Avenue, nor even Monroe.

They are in their own neighborhood—the

South Wedge. It’s Saturday night and their

next stop is home: only a few blocks away.