She looks at him like
he knows something about work;
like he’s not there because he’s
hungry and it’s lunchtime, but
because it’s a warm place to sit,
to avoid the sub-zero two-lane
he’s been hitching down since dawn,
leaving behind the ancient barn
and his early morning milkings.

She watches him eat
like the food’s not really food
but just another boring chore
needing to be done.

What she doesn’t see is how he’s
watching her right back, watching
how she always recommends the
apple crisp for dessert; always
offers to serve it up a la mode;
how she always smiles, totaling
up the check, mentally calculating
her tip, thinking about how she’s
one more tiny step closer to her
Caribbean Dream Home. 

Their eyes never really meet
until his hand brushes hers
at the register, and they smile
their kind and genuine smiles
and go their separate ways,
ready for their changes.

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12 thoughts on “Escapees

  1. This is gorgeously rendered, Ron! ❤️ I can picture them as they smile and go their separate ways.

  2. How many such encounters have each of us experienced? Two cats passing in an alley, two pigeons midst the flurry of the urban flock, two snowflakes bumping during their descent. A generous lovely observation; thanks.

  3. What a wonderful capture of a simple moment in life Ron, and the differing perspectives we each entertain in these type moments. A comfortable, natural flow of writing — excellent my friend. Glenn had asked me about the W C Handy statue on Beale Street. Seems its still there, joined by an Elvis statue since I was there.

  4. Easily absorbed into this poem. Luv the smikes exchanged. Pure and unbinding. Mention of the “Caribbean dream hope” made me pause and smile as i read


  5. Love this picture of an encounter at a diner. That brushing of the hand….oh my. And the insertion of the Caribbean dream home was such a good detail. Everyone has a dream….:)

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