Haboob

Scoffing at the approaching downburst,
we parked behind a scuttled Texaco station
on the outskirts of Ahwautukee and shut off the engine.
Fumbling to undo the clasp to let drop
those twin, heavy sandbags
of your breasts, my fingers slipped
and I cracked the crystal face
of my wristwatch on the dash.
I nibbled your neck and ankles as
the sudden flurry of dust scoured the windshield.
Your howls rose up to try to imitate
-or intimidate- the gales for a while,
though they never backed down
and you were soon spent, the sheepskin seat covers
squishing with sweat. We remained glued together
for the duration of the dry and chilly night, the drifts
finally rising up to lean their gritty heads
halfway up the windows, as if the entire world around us
was one giant hourglass,
stilled to signify that it was morning
and our time was up, even if we were not yet
fully buried.