Friends

From the dark
on the outside,
through grocery store
sliding doors,
I saw them.

They talked in the light
on the inside,
one with a cart full of wine,
the other with a cart
full of bottled water.
Pure allegory.

But that’s them.
Little House on the Prairie,
Monty Python,
and documentary
rolled together for a laugh.

They talked and I watched
thinking I could go through
the other entrance. I had
nothing to say, and I hadn’t
said much to begin with.

Only I was tired
of disbelieving my own words,
tired of claustrophobic
conversations whispered,
tired of revisions,
tired of fear.

I suppose
I could have told them this.
After all, we were once friends.
But fear won out.
I walked through the doors
to their delighted faces
and spoke with a smile for a shield
what was really on my mind:
“Now that I know they let you guys in,
I am never coming here again.”

We laughed at each other
just like the old days.