Prime

He stoops to recover his spilled groceries, an imprecation on his lips,

Then: stops. “Oh…”

The world around her is haze, the snarl of traffic quieted to a hum.

He feels that she can read his thoughts, painted in lurid crimson on his face.

•

She stands in horror, thoughts of her bus forgotten, watching as the milk from a punctured carton mingles with orange juice and runs into the gutter.

“I’m so sorry!” But she is not.

He is gorgeous, and she must not allow him to disappear quickly.

•

In the gutter, the mingled fluids have formed a new compound.

It will not be the only new compound today,

As they each hopefully note the absence of rings.

He is still on one knee, gazing up at her as she stands.

•

An old couple, a long way from their own start, edge past the new couple,

observe the scene and exchange a knowing look.

Even after all this time, they know a beginning when they see one.

•

He rises from the floor, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

His tongue is thick in his mouth, he feels suddenly warm in the cold air.

His thoughts are like popcorn in a pan; sizzle pop! Sizzle, pop, pop!

Don’t blow it. She’s beautiful. Don’t blow it.

•

As he straightens, she reflects he is the perfect height

For her. Not too tall, but slightly taller than she.

She notes the straightness of his nose,

The line of his jaw, the blue of his eyes, and smiles.

•

He smiles back, and his nerves calm. “Could I… could we…?”

“I’d like that. But your shopping?”

He glances down at the mural his purchases have made on the pavement,

Then scoops it up and deposits it in a bin. Smiles again.

•

“Shall we…?”

They shall.

•

In a bar, she finds he usually pretends to like jazz, but actually prefers Eurovision.

He makes her laugh, and is captivated by the sound.

She lists the places she wants to go, he imagines being there with her.

The time flies: Could we do this again? Oh, we must!

•

They meet again, and again, until soon they meet every morning,

As soon as they open their eyes. Weeks turn into months turn into years

Their home, their song, their dog, their children.

They are indivisible but

Not. Not at the last. She turns away, with fresh tears.

Dabs her eyes. Accepts the condolences.

Thank you for coming. A beautiful service. It was our song.

Walks behind him. The last steps of their journey together.

•

She sits in what was their home

Now hers, and hers alone.

The cocoa made, the fire is lighted

She begins the wait to be reunited.