She takes her coat off and leaves it on the kitchen bench,
turning out the lights, she gives life to a flame, lighting a candle,
we sit down by the window and speak in whispers
about people we both know.
A woman from our school died,
a sister divorced,
a child from our hometown, drowned.
Exhausting our gossip,
we begin to talk about God,
politics, movies, and the future
until the old clock chimes out three a.m.
and the candle passes away slowly from old age.
I take her into my room
and we hold each other
sleeping through the morning
and missing the traffic that races to desks in white offices.
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