Strangers
a tanka sequence


the woman 
who talked nonstop on the plane 
waits in silence 
reclaiming that baggage 
she left with a stranger


that man
in camouflage
clothes,
how young he looks...
how old


outside the store
she exhales with a sigh
sadness
that lingers
when the smoke is gone
 

finding yes
before the no’s
can reach their weapons
I give my change
to a bearded stranger





An Old Friend


After my divorce
I called an old friend
whom I had not seen
since before the Internet

and we met, east
of Cincinnati
at his favorite bar.

Listening to Jerry
was like sinking my feet
into a thick carpet

but he was missing some teeth
and still living alone,
rolling the same problems
up the same old hill
as if little had changed
in twenty years.

We remembered that time
some guy in our dorm
left for the weekend
with his Dylan record skipping
on full volume — 
together we all tried
to break his door down.

The beer was cold and crisp
as we talked and talked,
trying on our friendship
like old coats

and when it was over
we both vowed
to keep in touch.

I don’t know
what ever happened
to his phone number.


Credits for tanka in "Strangers:"   "the woman" originally published in AHG 1.1;  "that man" originally published in Bright Stars 5; "outside the store" first published in Atlas Poetica 12;  "finding yes" first published in Red Lights 10.1