I made small talk
with your ex-lover at a train station.
I reminisced about dinner,
and I gave him advice on shoes
because he was barefoot.
He kept moving a pen
from pocket to pocket,
the pen being a nice one,
perhaps a gift from his father.
He spoke of sparrows
pecking at him in nightmares.
I commented that the 5:15 was late,
and it disturbed his thoughts,
his face like a geezer startled from a nap.
He never asked about you.
I did mention autumn,
which reminds me of you,
the bare trees trembling
like your legs
on the night you left me.
But before I could complete my thought
the birds had already diminished him.