In a secure hatchback car, electric windows pull closed to the bottom leaving them wide open. Seen beyond the windshield bright moon pours silver light earthly through black clouds, streaks evenly spaced. Sun does this too, calling them heaven skies because why in the world not? In the apartment, farmer's market mint so gray and brown crackly earlier in the day, soaked in room temperature water, now puffy and miracle green again makes mint tea and desserts the day so digestible. Beach sand caught in my pant cuffs now sprinkling on the shower basin draining to who knows where. Ocean waves knee high still twirled me flat to the beach edge. Stranger brunette a few feet from my towel, half my size, thin and shapely makes me chuckle as beauty laughs random. My own beauty and own laugh spontaneous, too, a mirror's look, a day's sound. The buddha claimed nirvana at 35 and ate spoiled food at 80 that ended tangible enlightenment as he went to other clouds. The shower's tepid water splashes, enough warmth since hot water not available in basic living, more than enough to see so clearly through the shower curtain, a liner for $5, that was meant to be temporary. If I had only one kiss for her the meaning would last, each knowing because we do.