Crouched on the floor by the passenger seat
In a parked car, cold and still,
Feeling hidden from the cooling air of dusk in late June
And the deep-fried scent of French Fries creeping through the opened windows
Trailing behind the sudden rise and fall of voices from the ballpark outside
Light gradually dims and slowly gives the images on the page less distinction
Exchanging detailed lines for a heightened tone of greater stakes
A childhood imagination sparked
The ice cream melts and runs down grasping fingers
A quick tongue catches the run and smooths the remaining cone
Red and blue become almost indistinguishable in the fading light
The outside world there at arm’s length
Or a car door’s width
A state of connected solitude
Awareness and retreat all at once
Knowing enough to pay attention
Seeing enough to stay put
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