SABAH CARRIM

Alone in a restaurant

at a table for four:

phone car keys a plate of food

a book of poems

each claiming its right

to Life

its right to my life

watching them

Those Who’ve Fitted In

as they say:

“Like A Glove”

The banal

then suddenly

You

on the other end

alone

hidden by barriers banality

and barmen

 

I want to know

what are you reading

is it what I’m reading?

who are you

is it who I am

No!

are we both here

for the same reason

that we did not choose to be this