He sits in the chair with rigid gravity
And a childish smirk
That together seem to span all ages of existence
And in this strange union of  qualities
The occupant of the other chair finds comfort.

The perfectly rolled cigarette quivers
As it follows his skeleton hand
To thin white lips.

Smoke wafts out with his gravelly voice
That beats a pattern of familiarity
And the smoky words form images of  ideas
That are impossibly close to those developing in a mind
Distanced only by a table.

A cup of espresso jitters
Finding its way to those drawn lips
And thick black vitality
Sinks down the thin white neck.

Sigh of silence follows that sip.

Eyes connect in a thoughtful gaze

And the heart across the table leaps
At the discovery
That down through blue-washed eyes --
Wide and unblinking, ready to be judged --
The cause of shaking pallor
Is an immense

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