Beans in my lap

It was a sunny fall afternoon.
I was sitting in my '99 sedan behind the taco stand.
I heard a horn solo in my mind.
Herb Alpert to be exact.
The brass was like warm ribbons of sunlight across my dashboard.
I rode across town and sat by the runway.
I looked down at the green lettuce and refried beans in my lap.
I was much hungrier than I thought.
As I put away my napkin I looked up and through the chain link fence.
I watch planes gliding in.
Over and over. One after another.
Shiny silver giants from the sky.
Blindingly bright aluminum beasts.
I ran out of drink. The straw goes dry.
I wish it was 1965.