Steeped in hot water,
swinging, swaying
hurriedly meeting
milk and sugar
Life dust in a bag,
Hanging by a thread.
*
Misting his glasses
With the steam of jasmine tea
he said, "You're going to
hate me for this,
But I've forgotten your name.''
Later, at the train station,
He waved goodbye,
Adding, "I'll be in touch."