It was hot outside when the tube sprung a leak.
I was at the farthest end of a loop I'd never rode before.
So I walked back home holding the bike, and quite long
This walk was, though it didn't seem it, not within this glare, shirtless,
Realizing the smallness of emotion, and the immensity of this tiny town:
Both more alien, and urgent, larger than before our world went behind the sun.
We spooned as we spurned one another.
The calculus had a sense of its own:
It was not mine, it was not hers,
It belonged to Santa Fe,
Which gusted heat.
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