This piece continues a story I wrote yesterday. That story can be found here – take a peek if you have time – but…I think this one can also stand alone.
After meeting online and exchanging surface information about our poetry, we’d decided to meet at the Millbrae Train Station.
He’s handsome, in a rugged hiker’s sense. His beard is short and gray like his hair. His eyes are bright blue and pierce right through a soul.
We walked around downtown Millbrae and had sandwiches at Pickles. It was there that I asked him about his work. He lost me after the words ‘optical telescopes’. Something he said made me think of wild ferns growing in the swamps back home. One day, I’ll ask him about that.
After supper, we walked to a cafe. Poets were reading.
photo prompt © Douglas M. MacIlroy