Dakota Street

She solicited him from an upstairs window. He climbed the weathered steps, left his boots baking outside her door. When he tried to describe his loneliness, she shook her head and raised a finger to his lips. His visits grew frequent. Her modest desires and simple dreams enlightened him. Family and friends noted his happiness. “Dakota Street,” he revealed, when pressed for details. But their collective scorn shamed him into abandoning her. With rain came nights of sleepless lamentation. Come spring he returned clutching an armful of roses, only to discover shoes – not his – resting outside her door.