New Poem

THERE COULD BE

There could be a minute for wind and rattling windows

write it down on a napkin, trace the lines on your hand

onto the white soft napkin, there could be a story there

one that you’d put away, 

call it love, 

call it memory, 

call it something

then put down the tip, pay up for your coffee

recall a face and a name, how they’ve moved onto their destiny

and the windows still rattle

and your napkin blows away

time to get going.