there were others in the bagel caf� that lunch hour.
i know because i heard them
but i only saw her and God and me.
not the average college seniors,
we spoke about forgiveness
toward others without measuring
which of us has more to forgive
our respective persons.
we did this without mentioning names
other than Jesus, and did this without
describing anyone but Jesus, and without
defining our situations but His.
sharing her faith with me,
she separates the four halves of
her toasted, p & j, sesame bagel
while her coffee mixed with cream
and two sugars steams,
and i secretly imagine what one of her ancestors
looked like, at about our age, tearing a four leaf clover
while burning incense for a specific prayer.
i watch them engage with medicine.
in turn, sharing my faith with her,
at every other breath stop,
i avoid questioning my vanity by forking
my split veggie melt (her treat) until just the cream cheese
and the poppy bagel are left,
and i secretly imagine myself a bad poet
re-using old adjectives or who can't find new ones
to justly describe Passion.
and i heard others in the caf�,
but i only saw her and God and me.