Even old and toothless, you’re scary as hell,
yet here I sit, tapping my nails on the table,
sneaking an occasional peek at your scowl.
We’re having another go at it.
Your pauses still last too long; I still fill in the blanks.
You snicker at words not intended as jokes.
I slip in something I want you to know,
hoping you won’t fend it off this time.
Could it be the same for you?
Are these really scripts from different plays?
Won’t each of us take home as proof,
what we thought all along?
Originally published in Margie.
Gloria Parker is a retired primary school teacher. Her poems have appeared in Prairie Schooner, Margie, Slipstream, Mad Poets Review, Rattle, Nimrod, Loch Raven Review, Edison Literary Review, South Florida Poetry Journal, Healing Muse, North of Oxford, Black Coffee Review, Paterson Literary Review, and are forthcoming in North Dakota Quarterly.