monday

under cloudless days we gesture at sober folk in parks
turn fingers back around and i found a doo-rag on the ground
the same one you used to wear in your hair
and use to wipe your eyes in sad cinema
and we, like all old good friends
sit a bit now and then; close our hands
around the past and how we met comes up and i swear it was
you coming up to me in coffee shop with poem books under your arm
and you say it was me in coffee shop staring at the book you were reading.

2004-06-27 | 12:16 p.m.
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