A Sailor in Dark Mode

On a side street, the bar
lights flicker.

Scott is
a sailor with freckles
and a blue cotton shirt.

We drive soon
after meeting, a clear
path cutting

through suburbia
towards countryside.

The red roads lead us
to a green field.

Outside, the sun
is bored and throbs.

We kiss in Dark
Mode; contorted faces,
that medicinal
smell.

I walk
silent steps
towards home.