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

            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, Sojourns2014