A Novice Collector

Look,

  I said,

  And they both did:

At the flowering Lantanas flanking

the sidewalk, each yolk-yellow umbel like

a sun made of many smaller suns.

.

They're pretty.

  I stopped.

  Cars breathed

hot exhaust on the edge

of the Vegas strip and us.

The afternoon light was going golden.

.

Yeah,

  They kept on;

  I lingered a little longer.

Two dark, glass curtain wall

reflections—them, but

gloomier and glossier—receded.

.

A warm breeze lifted

  and those tessellations

  winked,

as if to say, Can you believe

you've driven under sunsets

without looking up?