they were doing nothing
they were sitting around
telling stories about the way the world is

and I could not argue
with the truth
of their sad conclusions

but I could notice
the beautiful woman
at the next table

and drown the sound
of their voices
with memories of loving gestures

that shore me up
and ease the hard lines
on my face

hard lines
that threaten to push me down
and hold me under

Bob Hudson calls ‘em like he sees ‘em.

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