Monday, January 21, 2013

Where Falcons Roost

Her name is Claudia and we met

at the bar down the street.

She's German and has been living

here since she was twenty-one.

She knows enough Spanish to get by.

The music and conversations blared.

We leaned in to hear one another,

she squeeze my hand and said

I like you,

no, really

I do. 

She's forty-three.

I said, I hope I see you soon.

She tugged at my beard.

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