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Going Out
We met over watermelons
and found ourselves together
all the time.
I saw signs all over,
flutes and trombones
from I, Claudius,
your instrument
with mine.
The weeks went by,
homework came and want,
togas and no togas;
soon it was
the last day.
They left us alone:
I with my cereal
and words, you always
with your watermelon.
I never found the words
until later, when you
and the watermelons were gone.
We spoke many times,
but not with signs, and
never with watermelon
or cereal.
Perhaps that was how
it ended, too.
