Reflections – Two Poems





Before him was a cup of coffee; behind him a window and a door. His sunglasses sat on the bar near his saucer. His reflection stared back. A young couple sat in a booth by the window. He watched himself drink his coffee. He saw the couple sip theirs. He noticed how his cup grew small when he brought it to his lips, then large, almost ridiculously huge, when he returned it to the saucer. The door swung open behind him and a woman walked in. He sipped his coffee. She put her small bony hand on his shoulder. “Yup,” she said. “It’s me.”


Objects May Be Closer Than They Appear

Paul parked his truck in the gravel lot behind the left field fence. Bill sat in the passenger seat and lit a joint. He passed it to Paul. Occasionally a fly ball floated in their direction and they’d squeeze their beer cans until the softball fell short of their windshield, caught by the left fielder a few feet away if he was playing deep, or sailing beyond his reach and bounding up against the fence if he was playing shallow. In a mad rush to collect the ball and throw it back in, the fielder sprayed the warning track’s gravel up against the fence and into Paul’s grill. The game was one-sided; the younger team overmatched. The fielder was busy. Once the ball flew over the fence and they watched it fall safely behind them. “That was close,” Paul said. Bill nodded. When Bill saw Sarah’s brown Chevy Nova roll into the parking lot he slouched in his seat. He knew Susan would be with Sarah. The gravel crunched and squealed under their tires. Pretending he hadn’t seen them, Bill watched through the side-view mirror as Susan and Sarah rolled by. Susan’s eyes met his. She grimaced, waved.

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