memory scent

Sweetes dreams
of black coupes cabriolets
with red racing seats
on tilting mountain roads
it's 10pm but
on the horizon
the sky still blushes
the way I do when
you speak to me
in our sexy 2 litre French roadster
we drink bad red wine
giving the city lights a disco ball effect
voice engrossed in conversation
body making all the right moves
beneath Lion's Head and the moon
I smell the ocean

I smell your aftershave
on a man in the mall today
he is much to tall and dark to be you
but your scent lingers in the space between
making me think French Cars
Stellenbosch Merlot's
your voice
over the radio

and with the roof down
I can make out Robben Island against the
darkening evening sky
and with the roof down it's
just you and me
and the stars