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


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            Emanuel E. García, Sojourns2014