Sophia sat on the bench
in a cafe in the park.
I'd gone to get two coffees,
and came back,
and handed her one
and sat down.
My father not happy.
Why, what's up
with him?
I asked.
A neighbour told him
I came home with you
on Friday evening.
I sipped my coffee.
Her old man was a short,
but stocky Pole,
who looked like
and sounded like
a mafia boss.
What did he say?
I said,
gazing at her
long blonde hair
and pale blue eyes.
He wants to talk
with you.
When?
I said,
taking a sip
of coffee.
As soon
as possible.
I nodded my head.
Did you explain
we just had a coffee,
and talk?
I said.
We did more,
but I was trying
to forget that.
He still wants
to talk with you.
She sat back
and gazed
at the duckpond
over the way.
I lit a cigarette,
sipped more coffee.
Did you tell him
I go to Mass
most Sundays?
Yes, I told him.
And he still
wants to talk?
I asked.
Yes,
he said soon,
and I was not
to see you
until he's seen you.
But you are
seeing me,
I muttered.
She gazed at me.
I want to see you;
he won't know.
He knew
about Friday evening,
and he wasn't there,
I said,
looking around
to see if we
were being spied on.
We see him tonight.
I inhaled deeply
on the cigarette.
I pictured us Friday
in her bed;
not something
I could forget.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 4:12 AM UTC
Sophia sat on the bench
in a cafe in the park.
I'd gone to get two coffees,
and came back,
and handed her one
and sat down.
My father not happy.
Why, what's up
with him?
I asked.
A neighbour told him
I came home with you
on Friday evening.
I sipped my coffee.
Her old man was a short,
but stocky Pole,
who looked like
and sounded like
a mafia boss.
What did he say?
I said,
gazing at her
long blonde hair
and pale blue eyes.
He wants to talk
with you.
When?
I said,
taking a sip
of coffee.
As soon
as possible.
I nodded my head.
Did you explain
we just had a coffee,
and talk?
I said.
We did more,
but I was trying
to forget that.
He still wants
to talk with you.
She sat back
and gazed
at the duckpond
over the way.
I lit a cigarette,
sipped more coffee.
Did you tell him
I go to Mass
most Sundays?
Yes, I told him.
And he still
wants to talk?
I asked.
Yes,
he said soon,
and I was not
to see you
until he's seen you.
But you are
seeing me,
I muttered.
She gazed at me.
I want to see you;
he won't know.
He knew
about Friday evening,
and he wasn't there,
I said,
looking around
to see if we
were being spied on.
We see him tonight.
I inhaled deeply
on the cigarette.
I pictured us Friday
in her bed;
not something
I could forget.
A boy and girl in a park in 1969
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