Sunday Drive

I try to tell from the walk,
the shadow, the stature,
the bow in the legs

is it him?

wonder what we would say
after all this time

I should hate him,
put the painful slides
at the front of the reel

instead I pull out the happy ones,
shine a light on what surfaces
of those feelings long ago,
of all that seemed possible

and even though I know better
now
I slow down

stare and stare and stare

consider the recognition
mine     and his
a weird and inappropriate reunion
in a parking lot at Christmas,
Solstice Bells on the CD in my car
and he smiles
like he still owns me
joyful and cruel
all at once

so I speed up
before our paths even cross.

Photo & Poem ©2023, Jen Payne. If you like this poem, you can read similar in my books and zines, available from Three Chairs Publishing on my ETSY SHOP. They come autographed, with gratitude and a small gift. .