Once, Sunset

If the storm lessens, if we can get to the car
Through the vastness of asphalt and puddles,
Cheap, off-campus pizza in front of the tiny TV
Not yet ours, still his, will happen. We wait out
Wild rain over Houston, Gulf tumbleweeds
Blooming loud, hammering seed rains
Deep into the concrete and into the clay
Paving the grass blocks between buildings.

The rain makes them shimmer, but the yellow lines
Were already just impressions on the sunken asphalt
Spread like an apron skirting in front of K-Mart
Gleaming in green/white splendor, dry and bright
While those of us in the parking lot huddle,
Ignore each other, and splash for the doorways
Sliding open as we approach, almost running
For the light and the rubber mats and air conditioning.

Little Caesar's is an indentation in the entry plaza.
We wait in dimness for our pizza, a pot of cream cheese,
And our breadsticks, bound for the dorm apartment
To be eaten while watching TV in the otherwise darkness.
It is afternoon, but the lights are wet, blue and white and green
Even the cheese glistens pale in its cardboard lair
Soon to be lying open to the sunset beyond the rain
Still smelling of K-Mart and garlic and air freshener.