Halos in the Rain

ozone and diesel fumes  
the click of high heels echoing  
from the empty shops across the street  
streetlights ringed by halos of rain
a hint of aftershave lingering  
along with the touch of lips  
warm and soft and salt  
crying a goodbye  
head held defiant walking in the wet and wind  
avant-garde styled hair losing a valiant fight  
primal patterns of streaked mascara  
a night of loss and recklessness  
a small café  
an oasis for those alone  
an even smaller table and a misted window
playing with the flame of a single candle  
fingers yearning, daring to be burned  
a pickup line, deeper than most  
a long cool look  
a man embodying flame  
feeling the world tilting, not caring  
words than imply far more than spoken  
Would you like to share my table?