Her handshake is a cold, jittery fish
when we finally meet in the woods.
Possessive as she about many things
(like her glass pot pipe of many colors),
I remain laid back, climb a knobby tree
along the perimeter of a dazzling pond.
I tell her what it’s like to turn fifty one
this year, vacationing here for the winter.
Her head tilts as she ponders the mystery.
Or so it appears from my medicated angle.
Then, I tell her how I like her new hat:
a purple ball cap with a falcon on it.
She touches my lips with her fingers.
Michael Hackney - Toledo, Oh