Julian Scutts Poet Blank verse

When a Pronoun Lacks a Nominal Antecedent

What is Truth?
That old unanswered question.
I know when I'm telling a lie though.

I lie not. There I was
minding my own business,
making myself a complimentary cup of coffee
in the hotel lobby when
this man leaves his seat
and stands right next to me, glaring.

"Where is she?"
He wore a workman's  knitted skull cap.
He pierced me with steely blue eyes.
He was tall and strongly built.

I was about to say "Who is she?"
but thought better of it.
He'd think I was questioning his judgment
in posing such a question.

"I've been looking for her over a year now."
I thought I should say something reassuring.
"Just wait a little. She'll soon be back."

"Who do you bloody well think you are?  
What gives you the right to say such a thing?"

"Nothing personal," I blurted. "Nothing personal.
I took "she" to refer generically to all womankind."

I think it took him four seconds to ingest my words,
by which time I had vanished down a corridor.

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