She had bougainvillea in her hair that day
he remembered it well--
how fluorescent red warred with
flowing blonde, nearly lighter than
the thin white linen she wore.
He remembered the way
her cool hand slipped from his
the moment he grasped it
and her eyes were cooler than brown
had any right to be, especially
in the heat.

It was then he understood the flowers
in her hair were not for him.
Nor the dress that clung damply,
outlining her starkly, lending
an aggressiveness to her beauty.
She turned her wrist over,
checking her thin gold watch.
He recognized it as new.
Suddenly, dazzlingly, she smiled.
"It seems like our time is up...
..ah well!"