after a summer dinner with friends, stopping for gas on the high ground while the sun was nearing the horizon and the storm roiled closer from the northwest. Perfect for driving, no blinding light at eye level, the imagination-startling, incredibly textured multi-grays of the clouds in place of endlessly featureless blue. Maybe you recall the photograph I sent you of the view from the pump, how much you said you loved me for sharing. I hope fantastic vistas force you to think of me for a sharpened moment among the dulling, infinite years of no longer needing me.