Dolores Dream - Kurt Elling

The white, electric skillet of a day

threatened to sear us all away —

fat frying, spluttering — rank Chicago smeltering along,

smothered in heavy, wooly sweat,

the city knew a sad regret

for staying long in summer’s heavy.

No escape.

Delirious.

So I went subterraneous.

Maybe I’d dream about Dolores'

kinda' auburn hair