He finished his beer in gulps.
His set had been a long one,
& the air in the room had become wet
with the sweat of bodies that danced.
As he stood to leave, he heard a voice he had,
at times, attempted to forget.
Her squared jaw & midnight curls
had remained the same,
but he scarcely recognized her
otherwise.
There was an air about her.
There was distress
& frustration
in the way she moved across the room –
stiff movements brought on
by long nights of driving, of
trying to reach a destination
not on the map.
Her eyes were ringed with a lonesomeness
he only saw in the corners of women’s eyes
after he paid them.
She saw that the stringy hair
of his childhood
had finally filled out,
& that he had grown tall.
His face had thinned, & the fingers
she once called pudgy and infantile
had become long vines that could conjure
wild forests of sounds –
he looked as though
life had hammered him
into the form of someone
she should have been afraid
of talking to.
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