Bench by the Sea 

Your hair's still thick 
but gray now. 
Same smile you wooed me with, 
broke me with. 

You appear just two benches down 
from my own favorite bench 
by the sea.

I cower, pull my visor lower, 
shrink into that same place
you stopped seeing me back then.

I hope the Houdini trick
will work, keep me safe.

The sea is receding.
Gulls cut in closer.
The sun worshipers gather
smart phones and iPads
into colorful bags to leave.

When I dare look again
I see an old man bent
with bread crusts in his hand.

You're pulling your Houdini
trick, too.


Pris Campbell
(c)2012

In The Rusty Truck, summer 2012


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