Catching Up

There is a woman in a peach blouse

flailing her arms emphatically

like the gist of her story

or joke depended on it.

 

Her lady friend keeps her arms neatly folded

but acknowledges the intensity of this narration

or simply indulges

with upturned lips stretching as far as her ears

until laughter breaks.

 

Laugh lines and crow’s feet grown deeper and deeper

with each tale,

with every exaggerated gesture

to emphasize the remembrance

of otherwise forgotten details –

scents

patterns

lengths

of dresses worn,

a bright hue, perhaps, like the one she wears today.

 

They stand up, taking time pulling back their chairs intently

taking small steps, cramming words

into the short distance between them

and their table for two

now with empty mugs and used teaspoons,

torn packets of brown sugar and cream

and lipstick marks on folded paper napkins-

 

a ritual of prolonging goodbyes.

 

A tight embrace by the doorway hinders anyone

from walking through

sealing the passageway temporarily

until after they’ve let each other go.

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Published in: on February 26, 2013 at 10:48 am  Leave a Comment  

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