CHANCE MEETING
for emily grace smith
Cocktail glasses clink all around
a December night falls and surrounds us
words pass slowly, quickly, drunkenly,
Then comes the imagining
your pen moving on a page, dash, dot, line, focus
in black and white, tracing the intensity of what was
and what may be in an instant or forever,
back to our chance meeting
discussing two lives crossing for a few hours
memories mixed in drinks
your paths, some of them, shared with a smile or a thought,
Drift to the future
you on the NYC subway perhaps reading
perhaps drawing an emotion in figures
tightly packed, tightly felt
In daydreams that move you along the morning,
This bar dwindles to nothing,
noise and chatter from bar stools fade to distances,
as we laugh and talk and walk away
The Golden Arches staving off total drunkenness
and night comes with us
parting in thank you.
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