“A Good Day” by Whitney E. Youngs


One pristine autumn day by the ocean
When sky ruptured blue and winds punctured heat
While Malibu wildfires burned canyon brush,

She hugged him in a dark, crisply chilled bar.
Sparks from wood, wire and ash electrified
Dry air. His ring's white imprint slow to fade.

His voice singed with rapture and gloom, as words
Poured out like virgin rain, its purity
Lost when rising up from soiled pavement.

His eyes, spread open like oleander
Petals, emitted day's orbit to night.
Under dust and cigarette haze, cocktail

Glasses twinkled, ruby lamps camouflaged
Gestures so tense - a second drink, her pulse
Slowed. Her hand in his, palms stuck like salty

Farm mud to the skin of pigs. She minded
None, caught her on a good day. They woke up
Naked in a room still draped in last night's

Dreams and blurred memories of a sunset
Sweating from its adornment of glazed stars.
They recalled fleeing the hot evening scene,

Creeping around her house, laughter muffled,
Like children hiding in a barn. He paused,
So she kissed. It was a good day to sleep with a friend.