When You’re Downtown

UNION STATION

We meet one day after
a long Chicago winter
in the rush of Union Station.

She finds me as I am,
nervous at a corner table
practicing my first impression.
I shake her hand, enjoy
the way words escape me.

We discuss our travels,
how we reached this point.
I get a sense of
where she’s coming from.

Some folks chat but never meet,
she says, lamenting the
difference between profiles
and how you actually appear.

We speak of childhood,
French philosophy, Freud’s
interpretation of dreams.

She asks about my poetry.
I share theories, outline
methods, draft revisions,
wondering what she’ll
make of these lines.

c b snoad
3-21-14

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poetry

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s