Gossip

"Uh, hi, are you Lena?" the man asked. He looked nervous. The staff in the cafe weren't sure if he was on a blind date or if he'd met her on the internet.
"Yes, you must be Josh, it's good to meet you!" she said. She had plain brown hair, straight past her shoulders. She was wearing a brown tshirt under a brown sweater that fell into a tied v at her waist. Lena had seemed a bit nervous as the baristas made her drink, but it was a bit out of their everyday job description to ask her if everything was alright. She wasn't afraid to meet their stares, eyes deep into eyes. No answers, just a whole lot of questions.
Josh was tall, skinny. He wore a gray hooded sweatshirt with jeans and sneakers that screamed stereotypical geek. His Asian eyes were a warm chocolate brown and his spiked hair invited a playful impression.
"I wasn't sure if this was the place," Josh said. "I took a wrong turn on the way here but there's no entrance to the parking lot from that street and I went around the block to try the back but there's no entrance there either and I ended up coming out by the Canadian Tire!"
Lena laughed politely. "Well, you found the place."
"It's nice," he said.
"I like it. It's close to home for me, I come here every now and then to relax and I thought it would be a good place to meet."
The baristas couldn't guess from their conversation whether or not they were romantically inclined or there for other purposes. Quiet for the first time that night, they hung on the couple's exchange stealthily.
Josh pulled out a laptop for the middle of the table. "I'll show you what I've got here and you can tell me what you think," he said. Lena pulled her chair around so she could see better. Their backs were toward the espresso bar and the baristas were mumbling to each other something about Josh being a stereotypical graphic designer.
"I'm really glad you could come out tonight," Lena said. "I don't come into the city very often and this isn't the kind of thing that can be done over the internet."
"Brian, your fiance, he didn't want to come with you tonight?" Josh asked. His inflection suggested it was an innocent question, not one meant to lead her into romance.
"No, he stayed up in Valleyview. Told me he trusted my judgement," she said, smiling. Josh chuckled politely.
The computer had finished booting and he pulled up a design for a web page. They went through all the features together, Josh explaining why each was the way it was. Lena listened. They leaned toward each other like conspirators in the back pew of a church, trying to plan something more exciting than the sermon.
Business, one of the baristas muttered to the other, and their conversation slowly resumed, the gossip having gone nowhere.

Kesa sized hole in my life

I think I saw you there
on the side of the road
on the side of the
blur
rushing past the car window
blanket over my knees outside leg cold
I think I saw
but it can't be and I know this
how long have I known this now? this time
of the year I miss
you
think about you lots when I think about riding
elephants through the jungle
because that was the same trip I wrote your mum a
letter
a crappy letter
saying sorry I
couldn't come home I
heard the news but
I tried to not step on tiny flowers instead
how can I thank you for your gifts?
how can I thank you for you?
I thought I heard your laughter or saw you in the
back of someone else's head that
night the other
night the black sky outlining your
profile
except it's not you and it won't be you and it can't be
you
ever
how did it come to this? And what the hell is
this?
I don't know.
i don't know anything about shit these days or that's how it
feels when I
think of you
because I want to hold your hand and play in the ravine and do stupid shit with our hair but
I
don't
have anyone to do those things with anymore.

How do you scrub crayon off the wall?

Lover brother my best friend, curved around my body your warmth is soothing, comfort incarnate and delicately wrong; a dream a fiend a friend, a sister but I missed her or didn't catch what she was throwing from another place her face in pictures missing her essence inexplicably free, you me and the divorcee were going to party and I wish I was there now but oh how I long for sleep, warm and deep, creeping upon me like a slug under rhaspberry bushes in the garden; tonight we grew a bonfire and the boys sprayed lighter fluid on it and I wonder under the crisp early winter stars if there is a god who loves my dad enough to let him live well for the rest of his years; my ears assaulted by stories of I don't even know what and I'm trying to understand, trying to remember if ever there was a time I did those things, did I party or do drugs or be excessive about anything, anything at all? Or was it really just my private writing on the wall?