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What I Want 7



I want to sit at a cafe table
in perfect weather
and speak with strangers
for weeks.
I want to drown in smiles.
I want the beautiful strangers
to line up around the block
for a turn at my table,
radiant with words
and with smiles.
I want them to call me
"the stranger at the table"
and have no need for my name.
The sun and the transient shade,
the blue sky, the clouds,
the blue sea, the white table.
Happy people, using the breath
of their lungs, their tongues,
to tell me their truths
while I listen carefully, eagerly,
to discover mine.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.