two couples walk together
each hand-in-hand
barely noticing the igniting sounds
of a street light's incandescent glitter
flickering above tree gardens planted
in concrete boxes lining benches
along corners of a southern town
around sundown on any weekend evening
a man with banded fedora softly strums
strings on his banjo
as if searching for the love of his life
through a sound
remembered from a song while sitting
on a corner of rock
a ledge of limestone brought
into this town from a nearby quarry
spying a curious straggler
he shows his cheerful side
seemingly pleased to be near
where friendly weekly gatherings
occur religiously
as each one becomes another
cherished dining affair
at a nearby restaurant
is where they meet as four
and sometimes more
to share a part
of that which makes each one
unlike anyone
in a gathering of friends
the summer's heated torment
sends its late light
to the shadows worn by night
shrouding sidewalks
from the searing sunlight
where people gather
and wait to join the crowds
of diners, those ones on the inside
making noises - rumbling sounds
with clinking forks and knives and glasses
touching with steely kisses
they celebrate with blankets
of roaring chatter
permeating the air with thunderous echoes
that bang back and forth between its walls
within these antique capstone halls
lie restless ghosts
telling stories of two hundred years
or more of memories
where ladies came to share and compare
and men rambled their wares
through each intricate working of their week
while waitresses opened more vintages
joining the legend of bottles
marking decorative spaces as emblems of the good
