Photo III

Open where light is reflected:
In the cherry wood of the bar, dark velvet fabric
elbows leaning, dirty oyster countertop
echoing hanging and caged bulbs;

                                                                he is looking away
toward the bathrooms where she’s gone, bald spot
revealed to rows of onlooking glasses
awaiting filling, bottles
awaiting emptying,
all the while not seeing
                                            the unseen
photographer holding his phone–
waiting–because she is
supposed to

photograph the pair
when she

                He is looking away, in full suit,
one foot flat, supporting, one foot behind, on a toe,
ready to move.

                              She is, of course, out of view,
                                        outside the frame.

The outside observer snaps the photo;
doesn’t tell him.  Or her.  Then.  Or ever.  He will find it
later, while scrolling to find it—himself/her/them—again,
after he’s dropped her home for the night, drinking
the coffee she’d made him in secret, made him wait for,
tiptoeing through a house, then back across pavement,
barefoot in the cold, soles blackened,
her head on his shoulders–
embracing him in the driveway–
embracing them in the night
before leaving,

and he’s driving
the hour and a half

             But for now,
he is looking away
from the shutter 
as it snaps,

and captures                                                                                    
a man waiting

for what he knows
will return, what he knows is
              before leaving
or having to

or being

                           what is left


                           (end scene)