Chance Encounter
I met him in the park
where you asked me
to marry you.
I was in a camping chair
behind my van,
reading.
He was passing by
on one of the park’s
walking paths.
The rear door of my van
(the van I moved into
after you met someone else)
was open,
and the bed and stove
caught his eye as he passed.
He stopped to talk,
asking about my travels,
what I had seen
and where I had slept
and how I kept alive;
everyone’s questions.
We exchanged numbers
for some reason,
and I stopped going
to that park,
the park where you asked me
to marry you,
before you met someone else.
/ / /
28 August 2023
Charlottesville VA
This is poem 38 in a series called 50 Days Till 50 Years. I’m writing a poem a day between now and my 50th birthday. I’m going to try to focus on memories of my past, and the people who inhabited it.
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