I Was There

It struck me how quiet

the diners next to us

seemed to be, and not

in an easy silence

kind of way.


As if the burden of having

to look across the table

at this other person

and still be expected

to hold down their lunches

was taking all the effort they

could muster and therefore

conversation would have

been impossible.


And I looked up at you

over my plateful of

potato chips and smiled

because you were telling me

a story you didn’t realize

you’d already told me

last week and

I thought,


We could manage an

easy silence between us.

But your stories never get

old and I hope you always

want to tell them to me.



And then again,

next week.



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