I hope and pray the next generations will still experience long talks. In person.

we were talking in a booth Thai place
grey and late December early afternoon
that elusive season
which never seems to make an imprint
pondering back on it
an hundred days after
yet now was when the old Nordics
counted it sacred
alone amidst the year’s sunrises
permitting male children their tribal births
when solstice silence kissed earth’s cheek
and might coax a mystic born
the right gods willing

we still regaled mutually
when twilight bathed the room
in reddish mystery and hungry families
their full meals consumed and paid for
while only two or three
our many topics treated
not quite entirely but well enough
maybe he’d tell of Deunov’s canticles
or bemoan how the French fret their decaying culture
or I might reminisce a childhood friend
who recruited me for his dramatic production
out of life context
out of the blue
accidentally causing his lovely sister
to make me wish to be her husband
but he not long ago, this annum obituaried

and only contemplating goodbyes
once yawning commenced
is it the digesting or the vocalizing
what tires us quickest
either way a year may pass
before I see this face again
in the cold biting darkness
I feel more life than usual
prepping the familiar automobile for blastoff
people ask what to advise their youthful selves
I know some answers now, their qualities true
little is sweeter than sweet conversation
restricted to friendships this wide wide world
and fate unfolds not during bold inflection points
the guardians are far subtler than this
no, sweetboy, look to random moments
of seeming inconsequence, uncluttered of strife
you cannot notice them in the shining present
but if lucky and watchful
the next days or weeks
engender gratefulness and awed appreciations
for helpers love it much
and feed upon acknowledgement

_______RS

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