Stranger

Stranger always there in the back row of the theater, one night mid-bow I see you sitting next to my father, so I invite you out for coffee after. It turns out you’ve known him since forever. And known me, too. And also knew his father. Your face is patient: one I might, on some other night, even call kind, if I didn’t know already exactly what you have in mind. Still, there’s no bargaining I can do. I elect at last to sit mutely with you – our common tongue – steam rising in wraiths from your plain dark cup.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s