A novel night

Last Wednesday, a rainy night, at the downtown bus station
she was back from Europe, I was on vacation
from a job, way up north, an oil-field fracking crew
when she appeared, in a fog, at first, I thought it was you ...

but she was there, and you were not, she worn a denim coat
a pair of boots, denim jeans, her standard traveling suit
she wrapped her arms around me, kissed me on the lips
I felt the contour of her, hands tight on her hips ...

would you like to eat, she ask me, I said I could use a bite
do you want to live, forever, or just for tonight
the bus station reminded me of the CERN Super Collider
high-energy particles, a mass of strangers, and her ...

running towards each other, near the speed of light
in the silence of the vacuum, in the silence of the night
we found a little diner, found the booth in the rear
ordered midnight breakfast, and coffee, it wasn't clear ...

what we each wanted, that night, or the next day
so we talked about our travels, our work, but didn't say
what was on our minds, what we really sought
as if we knew that night, both victims of the plot ...

of a dime-store novel (ten bucks on Amazon)
of two unlikely strangers, waiting for the dawn
so we had another coffee, chipped cups faded white
avoided all the questions, for another novel night ... ... ...