Sometimes Joan Baez would rap on my screen-door wanting a cup of sugar & asking if I made it home okay without being overcharged by the cabby We’d sit at the kitchen table & drink sangria Sometimes we’d dance right there to some soft jazz & I’d hold her tight while the sun gathered strength against our brown backs She always asked if my feelings were hurt because she’d found someone new & she always left leaving her cup of sugar & the scent of lilac water