View from the Max Bar

From the cobbled stone

on an incline,

cinched between

two streets

of rowed houses,

my table

one of many

in the delta square

partly shaded

by the red umbrellas

where I see you

almost for the first time

raised, above the crowd,

growing larger

approaching my seated face,

yours, in parallel

recognizing the greeting

and its voice.

Postcard no. 3

On the balcony-

the aging sun

and thoughts of

other lives

and our own,

made and unmade

all bringing us

to the single moment

of evening.