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
Copyright © Laura E E Marsh | Year Posted 2021
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