Departure day—
     knee on fire,
 meetings stacked,

 Irby’s as my waiting room and remedy.

Last night we didn’t meet,
     Coal’s tummy,
     Mari’s sinuses—

     so we talked instead…
     easy banter 'til midnight,
     the kind that settles a heart.

11:50 — Mari: “I’m kinda hungry.”
    (you never say that at noon)

I missed that one,
  meetings ran late. (of course)

12:24 — “I kinda want a salad.”

I grin into my glass,
  confess I had one yesterday, too.

12:40 — “You like the salad at Irby’s, right?”

Hope puts on its shoes.

I recite the Stomp,
  down to my precision order,
  like a love poem I’ve memorized.

12:49 — “Should I come get that salad?”

The room brightens.
    My knee forgets itself.
       My day finds its purpose.

So I sit here—
   knee throbbing,
   heart unwrapped,
   watching the door,
   imagining her smile
   in the space beside me,
   whispering to the universe,
   soft as a napkin:

   “lettuce be together,
         just for lunch,
                for now,
         just… *enough*”

   to make this the best departure yet.
                                (money)