Ivor and Leslov

Ivor and Leslov

Ivor and Leslov face each other

over hot coffee.

They talk with urgency

and no little substance.

Ivor says, “No, no!  It wasn’t like that at all!

There was snow that year

and the roads closed. 

We had to sleep in

the railyard.  Don’t you

remember?”

Leslov shakes his head. “No, no!

You are wrong.  It was the year

before,

the year Marika began coughing blood

and poor little Istvan was lost

in the North Woods.

Anyway, you were deep in the vodka then,

how could you

remember

any of this.”

A slide of disgust.

A glance of mistrust.

And finally, the slight twitch that says,

“Yes, yes.  We know each other

 far too well.”

Silence.

The raising of mugs.

Sometimes,

  you have to forget.

Sometimes,

  it’s best to let go.