And Then

I’ll meet you
At the coffee bar,
She said,
So, I sit
Play what if
Bufano cat
Keeps watch
With me
Crouching over
Pink cyclamen
A coated woman
But not at me
Nor for me
Husband returns
Sits in a seat
His wife
His, a call
Of nature

His wife forages
Among the clothing
The shoes
Perfume and
Makeup to disguise
The real
Reality insufficient
In these
Modern times
Yet instincts prevail
Men hunt, shopping
Track something
Specific, alone
Or with one other
Women gathering
Together, looking
For the prize
The treasure
That men
Will never see

Myself, I feel
A hybrid
On the hunt
For me alone
Yet willing
To meander
Look under
Rocks, bushes
If only to remark
Point out
The obvious
Except, perhaps
To me

And then
It’s time
To go


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