Strangers

There’ll be the day when I’m able to look at a stranger while he is standing outside both of us’ favorite coffee house with his cigarette (& I with mine), lost in who knows what, &— as his eyes, accidentally, but certainly in the course of time, meet mine— smile at him; no, I don’t want to make friends; no, I could have averted my eyes; but, but, but we happen to be here now & God bless the moment when the afternoon sun is slanted just so & the breeze is gentle enough & the summer day is sighing its last & You and I, in our steadfast solitude, know, even for just that moment, even though we forget it afterwards, that whatever we are we are seen and loved.

-Khôi-