b a r b a r a  f l e t c h e r: other poems


Hot Chocolate

In the Coffee Time at Queens Quay and
Lower Spadina, drinking my second cup
of hot chocolate. Not hot enough, too sweet.
A man outside studies a street map
in the cold neon glow of soups sandwiches,
makes a hesitated start toward the streetcar stop
pauses for clarification under the streetlight.
At times like this I want to go outside
and ask him where he's going
wonder where he and his red bike are headed
on this cold, unloving evening, away from
the lights, away from the noise and traces
of city, the shelter of skyscapers.
He changes direction, pedals up Queens Quay
toward a warm and quietly-lighted apartment
where I hope a daughter or old friend waits.
But he leaves me with a thick-skinned drink
that seems to be protecting its contents
from the words I want to speak into it.