It Was Purely by Chance It was purely by chance, As much, I suppose, as anything can be He was doing nothing again, but liked The senseless feel of a bazaar, open air markets With their cakes and cheese, The pacified throngs She fiddled with a string of beads, Which she never wore, by the way Too late to turn their heads Unshadowed both, a slight startle, Then faltering initial pleasantries And it was a very hot day On top of it all, So for them to be out on the Unkind streets . . . She laughed when he offered to buy The baubles, colourful and cheap Even without bargaining, And just as good at jibes She promised not to strangle him With them A drink was civil, though, and Justifiable Their ease in the noonday sun, Forgotten thirsts, the vanishing – It was impossible If they could get beyond the question Had their sanctuaries been transgressed, That tender fold just beneath her chin, His lower spine? How they kissed and kissed ________________________________________________________________________ Emanuel E. García, Sojourns, 2014 |