Stop in, Say hi

For Jane, Merry X-mas

    How young they burned in a metropolitan café between musician and poet in smoky sunlit afternoons, poor and drinking coffee with the oysterous world which lasted just as long as youth.  As children, they were too self-centered to see each other.  It was New York. It is New York.  It will always be New York.  He was as much a mess as she remained unapproachably clean.  She refills only his coffee, leaving him empty.  New York clears away old buildings for new ones, exposing light upon THAT bar of chance and circumstance, showing light in her hair just so.  There is a photograph above THAT bar, just so.  He talks to her like an old friend.  She responds with coffee pot in hand, like an old friend. What more could one ask for, neither question.  
    Is it Arkansas yet?  He lost track of his state, pulling into another truck stop diner, where her age catches him by surprise, but not as much as his own age.  He coulda been someone and she coulda been someone to somebody.  But she refills his coffee like an old friend upon THAT other bar in nowhere.  My, how seasons change when years do not.  It’s a different ceiling fan under a bright and wide sky, no longer pent in by New York skylines.  They prefer not to speak of those years.  His face is long and worn, her hips are wide and full.  She refills his coffee like an old friend.  They are no longer growing, but dying.  She has a trailer.  He has a semi.  Both have enough sand.  They are too old for hesitation, but not for silent and lonely defeat.
    He was surprised to find her, one last time tending bar in some backwater blue collar ‘burb where nobody moved and nobody got hurt.  Her tits sagged in time to the cracks in his face, both pendulous.   She had a kid somewhere who never called.  He had a kid somewhere who never knew him.  He was disappointed by his beard, for it never hid enough of him.  She wielded that coffee pot as both shield and sword.  But for him, it was THAT refill from THAT other bar.  They picked up where they left off before and before.  Those horn rimmed glasses and his slouch rejoined, this one last time.  They recognized each other, just as they did at the truck stop, just as they did all the way back to New York.  How they met each other a third time, god only knows.  But!…God designed this third meeting.
    “I just wish there’d been someone throughout this life.” She said, refilling his beer.
    He responded, “Oh, there has.”
    
    
 

Reviews

[Cait]

Wow, I like it it's really sweet. =)