I Keep My Fists You Read Your Palms. Poem by RIC BASTASA

well, we can be here
for that formality

after all we had those
years together

we held our hands like
a flower bouquet

twas like a marriage
of this sort

i make promises and
you listen

i give you all those
years and you take them

now we are sitting on a
chair facing the road

we both leave this place
all those years

i go left you go right
and since this world is
round

we keep the hope, that
convergence out there

hope you can meet love
hope i can meet hope

the moment of boredom
has arrived with an empty hand

i keep my fists
you read your palms.