I admit to an afternoon of margaritas
but swear it, swear I did see
hot-damn Helios, with expertise
only a God could hold,
bring his fast-flying quadriga
to a full-stop, with the lightest squeeze
on his chariot's reins.
Stopped on a dime of cloud
because of you, baby, below, wading
hot-damn in cool waves.

That wasn't wind whistling in your direction.