by Annique le Roux
I have failed to explain
describe
say
Too many times to count.
To what did this amount
I remember fallen crumbs
remainders of my meal
nourishment.
The coffee warm in my hand
Change in my pocket jingling as I stand
I feel the safety of my coat
as the wind buffets
me.
My mind pondering as I walk
I do not even hear him talk
Sir
I stop.
Turn.
Look.
It is cold
He shows it.
I feel for a coin.
Extend my hand.
Rough fingers touch me
I feel their history
pain
His eyes meet mine
Our thoughts seem to intertwine
I understand
now.
I feel there is more
than what I am.
This man.
I take my leave
changed
altered
The wind feels colder.
And I think of him