2016 Syrah

Her lips looked like the tart sour red cherries, that taste so good, so juicy right out of the basket, while wandering up and down the stalls on a warm summer evening at the downtown Farmer’s Market, we came together but would pursue our own priorities. I could smell the tikka masala simmering, street corn, artichoke, steaks grilling and churros turning, as smoke wafted through the air from the neighboring oak wood metal barbeques hitched to the back of the catering trucks. Deep dark red roses were for sale, advertised on neon signs clipped to white five-gallon buckets, your standard addition that you see at most hardware stores. I bought three dozen for forty-five dollars, I was late and jogged to our meeting point under the tall pepper tree, heavy with pink berries, back behind the old mission.