Between the Sun and Me
I stand outside the pool hall with you,
so I can steal drags from your cigarette
and discuss how we will prepare
our roses for winter,
even though stubborn leaves still cling to trees.
You tell me I expend too much energy
rushing into the future,
then step in between me and the sun,
so I don’t have to squint.
You wrap your hand around my forearm
and pull me toward you.
A man wearing a leather jacket
and shiny black leather shoes
startles us when he asks for cab fare,
he says his car broke down.
When you say no,
he asks if he can bum a smoke.
You open your pack, hand one over
and light it for him
just as Willy the Whale pulls up
and gets out of his Cadillac
holding his cue case.
The guy asks, “Hey Willy, what’cha got in there a gun?”
Willy nods at you, winks at me
and ignores the man.
After a few seconds, the man backs away.
Willy mumbles something about stupid junkies
as the man knocks on a door a few buildings down.
The door opens then slams shut on him.
He turns and walks down the street
in search of something or someone
who will stand in between him and the sun.