Conversations

None of us

have any business

understanding each others'

references, in truth

blank stares are all we give

I used to go

for a coffee now

and then, irregularly

the nights weren't

altogether so long.

People don't talk

I listen

Someone said near me,

"what am I saying...hmm..."

rhetorically, of course, but why

think the tips of our tongues

should always have

answers on them

One milks her coffee

spread out the moments

our conversations consisted of

spreading out

each drink, meal,

day, year, you name it

She's there again someday

in the chair that's usually

mine, she has come

and is sitting in it

casually "Hello", You "Oh my"

and "what a surprise" for both

but I leave for

a sofa, coffee so close

to spilling

Neither one looks

directly at

the other, conversations

live within us

not between. I never saw

when she left

nor, I suppose, she me.