He leaned over me
\non the way to the john
\nspoke softly
\nas drunks will
\nto strangers.<\/p>\n
For a few hours
\nas we and they ate
\nhe had \u2014
\nspeaking French to
\nhis mother and father \u2014
\nthanked them,
\nand he gave her a bouquet;
\nand they loved him
\neven if he was
\ndrinking too much,
\na bit too funny:
\nthey spoke sweetly,
\npatiently in rich,
\nintimate patois.<\/p>\n
He leaned over me
\non his way
\nto the john,
\nand whispered
\nyou know
\nMother’s Day
\nmakes me sad:
\nmy wife died of cancer
\nfive years ago today;
\nwe had no kids.
\nDon’t worry,
\nit’s okay.
\nThey understand.<\/p>\n
He walked on
\ntowards the john.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
He leaned over me on the way to the john spoke softly as drunks will to strangers. For a few hours as we and they ate he had \u2014 speaking French to his mother and father \u2014 thanked them, and … Continue reading