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.