Sky, hill, pewter, rust
brighter this side

of the mountains but still
subdued, the radio

finally finds and settles
on a station, I try to

pick out words, catch glimpses
of mylar ribbon strewn 

through trees like tinsel from
a cherry harvest long over

a song comes on slow so
I understand it tú

estás siempre en mi mente,
a nostalgic proclamation  

of horns and strings and chimes–
the credits should roll now

as I shoot down this road
splitting foothills washed 

in dust haze and gold–
of course they don’t  but for

just one moment the internal
and external are perfectly

aligned and the man’s at peace
with all he carries just listen to

his voice and not the words 
siempre tú tú tú 

the sky too dreamy, on any
other day I would fault it

but at this exact moment all melts
into kindness, that is to say, 

we’ve come far enough,
well past forgetting.