BLANK FACES

Our first date was a photography exhibition.
She was supposed to meet me at the station.
I waited an hour, but she didn't show.
Cold wind blew through the tunnels.
Trains not carrying her rumbled below.
All the faces in the crowd were blank.

BOUND

She created a necklace
From hemp and beads
As we drove west across
Texas towards Dallas
To the beat of music
From our homelands.
She leaned over and fastened
The necklace upon me,
Surprised how quickly
She completed her weaving
And threading. She returned
To Canada and I flew
To Europe. The necklace,
However, still binds.

SKIPTON

We pitched our tent in the field
Behind the canal behind the pub;
We were broke and had missed
The last train. Our only option
Was to wait until morning,
So we scraped together loose pence
And slowly shared a pint of cider
And a bag of crisps. A man down
The bar noticed our backpacks
And disheveled clothes, shouted
Us pints and told travel tales
Until closing time. We thanked
Him, exchanged addresses, walked
Out the door, around the pub, across
The bridge over the canal, through
The trees to our waiting tent.
As we crawled inside, undressed
And snuggled-up, I thought,
“Missing the last train and running
Out of money isn't so bad after all.”

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