Old Marrieds

by Sue Ellen Thompson

The ones not chatting
in the coffee shop.
The ones not
holding hands,
walking in the park.
In the grocery store,
they’re aisles apart.

But once one of them
is gone, you’ll see
the other gazing
at a vacant place —
one hand extended
at an angle, grasping
empty space.

He who hesitates
behind a shopping cart
is neither lost nor searching
for harissa paste,
just waiting for
what isn’t there
to round the corner.