• Vol. 10
  • Chapter 09

A brief rendezvous

On a fine sunny day
walking down the street you
see a familiar face
someone you used to know but not
You stop the car, you holler.
You exchange pleasantries, but you don’t
exchange numbers.
You marvel over the years that have flown.
You reminisce the old times
looking vaguely for a sign of who
they used to be.
You smile with eyes shaded by glasses
lest they look into your soul
and know your secrets,
lest they enter your life again which
has no place for them.
You ask about kids, about job,
about why they are in the city.
But you don’t ask what they carry in
their purse, what baggage.
You don’t ask what they are being shielded
from by the parasol,
if they are warm enough
beneath their jacket.
You don’t ask, and they don’t tell.
You know that a friend has turned
into a stranger then,


A brief rendezvous

>with a sense of wistfulness you drive away
and the rendezvous is forgotten
with you drowning in another busy day.