Tuesday, January 30, 2007

Acrostic Lunch

Late lunch

Last I saw you, you stood so still,
Under a dripping umbrella. “I will always,” you began
“Never,” I interrupted and turned away into the dark.
College, grad school, marriages, divorces, children since.
How many years and you never, never left?
I’m back, a lifetime later, unfettered
Now, eating alone, across that street.
After one, I linger over pinot
Noir and watch for you who were
Never far away. Muted memories swim
And then, there you are, in winter light,
Rooted at curbside, fishing change,
Burberry trenched, cashmere noosed. A lump
Of middle-aged sentimentality rises in my throat.
Reaching to pay the bill, I realize the price.

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