Canterbury

Guessing
the policeman’s sign
traffic light and sweeping along the street
tight rope sun dance.

Now she sits
knitting a conversation
from the piece of memory
she once knew.

Congenially adds a thank you
hand flat against the table, bows.
I thought I borrowed beauty only a minute ago
strands.

But the man
across and a little out of place,
casts sideward glances longingly
runs his finger along the glass.

Brimmed hat
holding stare
back and forth
he finds the broken key.

Piano out of tune
smoking cigarette on the ash tray.
Finish the song, take another sip
the condescending secrets and exhale.

But the man
listens to her explanations
leaning slightly
taken aback.

Guessing
grasps her forbidding hand
and changed the tense
walking backward along the hurried road.