K.N.S.

K.N.S.

It wasn’t so much a

surprise,

there was milk

in the wine bottle;

her smile said it all

as I sat opposite her,

legs crossed.

 

“la la la,”

She grinned.

 

“la la la,”

I replied.

 

She told me the story

about smoking in Las Vegas,

a flight that cost too much

a room that cost too little,

Mexican waiters,

and a crazy woman at the buffet.

 

It made the trip,

perfect,

as only

imperfection

can.

 

I was not in her life then,

and that causes me concern.

 

But the story is still good,

in fact better,

the third time around.

 

And we can sit at the same table again;

sharing some small circles.

 

Time changes all things,

mostly the beginnings;

as my bags are packed

and waiting at the door.

 

I’m just a visitor now

having one last cup of coffee

before I go,

decaf unfortunately;

for caffeine rusts spoons

from the inside.

 

She winks at me

as I step outside.

 

“la la la.”

I reply.