STEVE ORLEN
They set down their drinks, hug, kiss
For the final time, refuse, as they always have,
To say goodbye, and leave the hotel’s bar
By different doors. Each hails a cab, drives
On different streets with similar views, city
Hustle-bustle anonymous, moving further
From the locus of their loss. Both cab radios
Play accompaniment, as though perfectly arranged:
The humdrum business of the business of the world,
Go here, go there, interrupted by that static
From the other dimension. Then the radio
Clarifies itself. It’s definitely her voice. “Hey, you.
It’s me. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Now I want to.”
The cabbie pushes a button. “Your turn, fella.”
How did you do that? “We bring lovers
To each other and away. We are blind to one
And deaf to the other, though sensitive enough
To accommodate both anticipation and sorrow,
Which pay our bills on both accounts.”