The Stranger

Stranger I never really met him But I know him I know his face in profile The furrows of his brow I’ve seen it enough times At Barnes & Noble browsing Asimov I’ve seen him Leaving the loft Watched his hands Holding the door For his momma at the beauty parlor He always tips the stylist who frosts his mamma’s grays The other day I just missed him Leaving the last row of the church pews The handout he left behind was still warm His pencil still on the floor beneath the ancient wooden bench And on Tuesday, I watched him do a coffee run for the guys at the office I know it was him I floated in on his Perry Ellis He takes his coffee black with extra sugar He goes running on Saturday mornings rain or shine Always listening to Miles I still hear the bass echo in the trees He has his board meeting Every third Thursday I know ‘cause he always picks up his dolce suit Every third Wednesday Then stops for a fade Spends an hour with his boys If I time it just right I might get lucky And bump into him Accidentally of course I betta’ do it this Sunday ‘Cause this Monday Is his first date With the chick who frosts his mamma’s grays