Hastings Street Coffee House, April 83

Three AM on Saturday

we were crowded in a doorway

Bars closed, we sheltered from the rain

The drops beaded on your poncho

like flower petals the morning after

I saw you before around the billiards

Two other pubs and fourteen bottles

A spark in your jade eyes remembered

I let you enter first

and never saw you again

But your jade eyes in the mist

saw me home in the dark