café on the top floor
could smell the coffee from the elevator
along with faint scent of grey flannel
he could have been my paternal figure
he had that south philly banter
italian market swag
drank egg cream without his wife on Sunday mornings to avoid mass
wearing a taxi hat, white t-shirt, plaid shorts
fashionable enough not to wear black socks
never kneeling to pray
instead he kissed the medal of St. Peregrine
pinned to his sleeve
pressed the highest button
smiled and said,
you smell amazing; you’re husband must take really good care of you.
I smiled and nodded.
I’d ask you to have brunch with me but if my wife saw you…
took my hand and kissed it.
i’m a dyin old dog anyway…do me a favor?
order the blackened salmon salad. it’s so big
take it home and share it with your husband
t’was the first time i said i was married
the first time the joy of another
made me wish t’was too.
©michele mitchell, 2014
For this week’s prompt, write a poem in which you’ve imagined a story for a stranger. Maybe someone you see on public transportation, a couple at the laundromat, or a neighbor. Is the person more fabulous than expected? Fallen upon harder times? Exactly as one might guess? If you need ideas, use this prompt as an excuse to do some “research” by getting out and about in the world today/this week.
Photo credit: http://www.deviantart.com/?q=st+peregrine&offset=24