old friends

there's a new tenant in the old brick storefront,

a coffee shop with all the current affections:

soft jazz on the sound track,

esoteric muffins, cookies

sans sugar, sans fat, sans gluten.

i have my favorite window seat with

a view of all the little dramas on the street.

a couple walking hand in hand,

suddenly let go and glare

like they've just been hit

by ten thousand volts at sing sing.

so i don't see her come up behind me.

brush a warm hand across my neck,

rest it lightly on my shoulder,

shoot a hot breath across my ear.

i turn and look up to see

those flashing eyes and teeth,

the wink implied  with just a hint.

i know her, knew her, knew her when.

i can see the table where we shared…..

all those electric conversations……..

all that tension...…so,

why does her name escape me,

memory desert me?

at such an

inconvenient time?

hello stranger, what a surprise, i say.

so good to see you, i lamely improvise,

hoping that this stall will resurrect

whatever traces my reluctant neurons

can dredge up through the latest

clutter of scandal, scores, and musings

about the hidden plot lines

of the people walking by.

how long's it been?

i brilliantly inquire.

she says, ten years my friend,

and you haven't changed a bit.

she's lying and knows I know it

but we'll just pretend it's true.