She walked over to my table
She was probably sixty-five
but she had taken care of herself
she asked me
in the most pleasant voice
if I was "RH"
I said no, I'm Justin
Nice to meet you though
Her date wasn't there
and he wasn't coming
I told her about Whitman
she said that would be good
For those SSDD's
Same shit different day
at least you'll have something
To look back on
She gave a little perspective
I was glad I could soften the blow
---
and I thought about all the places
that I could be
where else I was supposed to be
and why I was here
There is no other way to slice it
besides chance
We slither aimlessly
Like worms beneath the soil
occasionally we blindly slide past each other
---
and I then realized
even if that moment was not ordained
That it still could have meaning
because that comes from
what you do with your chances