Two Strangers Waiting to Walk
       

What you said is not the reason
I remember, but more the gesture,
how you tossed it from your twisted mouth,
glancing down as if my new shoes
might respond, and in a way they did
when I up and crossed the street ahead of you,
the light still chirping as I paused at the curb,
careful not to scuff my shiny toes. When I
glanced back, you were still staring at me
from your self-imposed spot, others flowing
on either side like a stream of water besting
its obstruction, leaving me to wonder if I
could've done better by you, or if what
you said really is the reason I remember.

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Copyright © 2019 Roger Pfingston All rights reserved
from What's Given
Kattywompus Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission