One Must See a Lady Out

Why should I insult you
with some phrase like
“She is so-and-so”,
“She is such-and-such”

Nobody asks me any questions.

I won’t describe you.
Or paint you in shadows.

I won’t sing you off-key.

Better to sit a while
on the cracked paving stones
by the ice-cream stall

and let the sweet-and-sour rice
in the square box
on my knees

foretell for me
a sweet-and-sour future…

And let it smell of froth,
of coffee, of chips,
of the noise of passers-by…

Will you sit down?
As you wish…

And what pet name shall I call you?

“My dear friend”?
Darling, beloved?
Soulbelovedarling?
Sweetheart? What?

Shall I not call you anything?

There’s no hurry to go, is there?
No, I’m not saying you aren’t lovely.
Only as old as the world. Alas.
Already? Time to say goodbye?

Yes? Well, yes. You’ve only just come.
And you’re leaving? And it isn’t polite?
Not to see the lady out,
even if the lady is Death?