making French Toast again

the tap

on the shoulder startles

me as

i stand in line

with a dozen

eggs

and milk,

bacon and bread,

a bottle of maple syrup,

tomorrow's breakfast,

or tonights dinner

i haven't decided yet.

don't i know

you?

the woman says.

you look so familiar.

i turn around

to look at her.

i nod, yes, i think we've

met.

in fact i believe

we were married once

back in the 80's.

your mother lived with us

in the basement.

does she still have that big

thing on her neck?

she nods yes.

we had three kids,

i tell her and

we used to live in that blue

house up

on the hill.

right, she says, right.

i thought it was you.

making French Toast again?

she asks,

looking at my

groceries.

maybe, i tell her, maybe.

we'll nice seeing you again,

the line

is moving, go on, go on,

move ahead.