Maria

white shirt, darker-than-tan khakis and black flip flops
stroll up the stairs to meet and greet the differently aged womyn
occupying couches in the corner.
they have been drinking coffee and tea,
eating yogurt and scones,
talking about their men (and womyn),
gossiping--a little--about the people they see at the places they share and
it's been three hours since their arrival.
he comes and sits beside the younger one, who though
excited to see him won't be the first to extend a loving touch.
the matriarch looks at the couple hoping
a semblance of long term survival exists for them
but
she doubts a man and womyn can do anything in the long term, anything but regret, that is.

he has come from 2 miles down the road, probably 17 blocks in all, to recount for
them what the first day of law school was like. the 2 mile/17 block spread
includes a city change. the apprehensive girl, who is a theology student, flanks the
lawyer-to-be caring not about cities or blocks between them, but the truly divisive things: disparate languages,
incompatible world views and years of accumulated student loan debt.
after (quietly) boasting about his first "right answer" when first called upon by his first
professor of property law, he reaches across the couch and places his hand
on her knee. with all his firsts, she considers the possibility of lasts and moves
into his intimate gesture.

the container of wisdom sitting across the way, gazes at this melancholy, age old tug-of-war
while breathing through her teeth. she is at once smiling upon his ambition,
empathizing with her female companions fear,
and forgiving herself for all the ways she fell in love so young and so stupid.