A man and a woman enter a bar.
What made them a pair is no longer there,
yet something remains, or is born anew
out of the ashes of that vanished bond.
They sit at the counter, the barman draws near,
he doesn't know who, only what and how.
He breaks the ice twice, it's ice of two types:
one needs a tool, the other a joke.
When he withdraws behind his shadow
they look at each other and raise their drinks:
the spirit wobbles when the glasses clink,
their spirits flutter while their gaze click.
The band starts playing an old jazz tune,
their mood now follows the syncopated beat:
tension gives, emotions take,
as the two stools sway, they chat the night away.
No comments:
Post a Comment