Maybe Frannie

Was it Frannie?  Might have been.
A butterfly moment – glances shared.
I was not sure.  Neither she.
A hesitation. One step. Two.
The woman passed,
Frannie passed?
Melted into the station crowd –
if it was her.
Her haloed black Afro
faded grey, pinched to a plait.
Cheek bones more prominent.
Same piercing eyes
behind thick lens’
ageing woman glasses.
A walking stick now,
kind of crotchety – suited her.
The glimpse reopened that half-forgotten –
but not forgotten – insult
that sundered us decades ago
leaving an abyss
where shared afficion for culture;
literature, film, art and modern thought,
had sustained easy friendship:
I called O.J. guilty,
she called me racist.
She must be knocking eighty now.
If our paths cross again –
and it is Frannie:                 
Maybe coffee. 
Maybe chatting.
Maybe binding a near fatal wound.

© coolhermit 2023
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critique and comments welcome.
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Awesome pace and inventiveness and keen observations….


Coo. Good luck with the book. I use Lightning Source – much cheaper and no stock to keep – worth checking out: someone pays you for a book, you pay them, they print 1 or a 1,000 and post them to teh customer!

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