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For Lisa (In memory of a would-be love affair)

Jaco Fouche

We no longer stay up talking like young Americans
In those movies we used to watch
Sitting uncrossed inches from each other
On that huge sofa that smelled of dust and cat
Watching, talking, not touching.

We no longer go for slow and careful walks
Joking about love, late at night
When the police vans roam
Watching over sleeping bergies
Barkeepers locking up
And street evangelists going home.

We no longer smile over cups of coffee
While I defend the merits of movement and pyrotechnics
And you insist on the sort of film you have to read.
We meet halfway,
And take in a subtitled Hong Kong spectacular.

I caught a glimpse of you, though
Yesterday -
You were driving a run-down station wagon.
Your hair was long.
From the back a child worked its hand into those tresses.
Somebody hooted,
And you smiled.




LitNet: 18 March 2005

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