O Senorita , I dreamed of you last night.
You were the age you would be nowand still handsome in your quiet way.
Remember us, in our Easter Sunday best,
beside my father’s mint green Chevrolet,
holding torch-shaped ice cream cones.
Ten years later, I’m wearing a prom dress.
You are Cary Grant in a rented tux.
You broke my heart that night,
being too attentive to another.
Somewhere between the Carvelsand senior prom,
probablywhen we were twelve,
we paused in a Long Island woods and sat beside each other on a fallen tree.
You surprised me with a kiss and I fell silent as a log.
In the dream, you said you live in Delaware.
I wonder how you are now.
The fool part of me is tempted to see how many
Senorita's live in Wilmington but if I found you,
what could I say?
O Senorita,
I dreamed of you last night.
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