Watched Reflections
Contradicting as Parisian cafes in Galway Bay,
were the light-lily shadows, from the poster
d'un chat noir hanging sullen
on brick,
cast upon your face, lighting like
screen starlets of old.
I caught ourselves half-mirrored,
faded as
blank portrait paper, nostalgic and
waiting
for a time few days past, before the
cooling
of untouched coffee. Then I . . .
Felt a strange wondering, if your
other self
in the window glass would love me,
if my
same-seeming double would know right
things
to say, speak charming as trad
singers.
Hallway Chairs
I'd clear the room, tables and places to sit,
like a blind pig serving bathtub whiskey brew,
wanted to be ready for the walk-in of guests,
fitfully dusted, waiting on your makeup.
It was nights when you were unreadable
closed and rejecting clumsy overtures,
unlike in sunlight, day calm and under-dressed,
only a bit of the time, though.
Darkly continental, confusions of interest,
I looked to you closely, some kind of
affirmation sought, hair greased and all;
it was little wonder I ended alone.
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