tell me

She wears a summer dress, white, sleeveless, in sandals, and a sweater, open, dancing, alone, on the cobblestone veranda of the mostly empty restaurant that sits on the quiet shore of a small Maine village. It is an October evening, a Saturday night, not cold, cool, and she looks at him with her azure eyes and her lovely smile, gliding unabashedly to a wonderfully steamy Dylan tune that includes the lyrics “Ever gone broke in a big way? Ever done the opposite of what the experts say?” It's the first time she's heard the song, but she matches its intent and spirit as though she wrote it with him. He knows the song, and the words, and he watches, carefully, intently, smiling, too, for she is dancing not only for him, but to him. It is almost eleven and he thinks he’s never seen anything so beautiful. And he is right.