“For David” published in South 85 Journal, Fall/Winter 2014/15

For David

Down the street, past the corner guitar man,
we turn left into the long arcade.
Its glass-topped ceiling dribbles with rain

as evening slows the clouds.
Shops line the walkway, small flags
draped at each bell-clapped door.

Here we find perfumes, stationery,
that silk tie you’ve wanted, or cinnamon
rolls at the baker’s, steaming up the window.

A constable sits his horse, clopping down
the cobbled lane. A child flits past, a clump
of ribbons streaming from her hand while

a gaggle of teens, furtive, smirks at us,
at our arm-in-arm gait, our middling
paunches. No matter. We amble on.

A wisp of curry scents the damp air
as you reach for me, your hands
in my hair, your lips on my cheek.

In the near-dark, we sixty-somethings
still grow breathless, still laugh out loud,
our voices startling the birds, who rise.

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