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I had learned how to pronounce the word
Quixotic
And how I used it,
Pinching the blue canvas of the sky
Pulling it down, taut between my fingertips
To rest on the tops of the trees in our fig orchard

And you spoke of long drives
Where we would approach intersections
And flip a coin to see
Which way we would turn

My hate for dresses was faded because they fit the moment
The straps slipping down my shoulders to be pushed by up by the wind
Rolling and licking along the edges of the car's window
Forward on the barely-there highway
That ran between fields that smelled of lemongrass and
Mineral water

You smiled.
I wanted to peel the corners of your lips like a sticker
And slap copies of it with great giddiness all over the walls of the buildings in
New York and Atlanta, Montreal, Boston, Chicago
And even San Francisco
The fields were replaced on one side by the ocean
Gilded with salt
As we drove from the great Northwest to the South, and I could taste
The change
The spice in the air
The peppered valleys and sidewalk store frijoles
And that car, the one that I swore fumigated itself daily was
Home, the greatest home with
Sweat-slicked seats and our backs sticking to the dusty tan
Leather with our feet out the windows
I drew smiley faces on the sideview mirrors with
My toes