Old Friends Meet for a Glass By Trish Saunders

After we praise our fish tacos, drain our margarita glasses, 

ask after each other’s jobs (oh, forgot you don’t have one)

find other ways to fill the silence—

Walk you to your car? The sidewalk

looks friendly for once. 

Seeing how quickly your car passes

mine heading for the onramp, tell myself

I feel nothing but relief, another 

obligatory visit finished, not

minding any more than a bus shelter

cares about cars whizzing past,

though that might be a slight 

exaggeration on my end. 

Trish Saunders has poems published or forthcoming in The Chiron Review, The Rye Whiskey Review, Main Street Rag, Book of Matches, The Galway Review, and Gargoyle Magazine, among others. She lives in Seattle, formerly Honolulu.