What Happens When Strangers Meet?

[octaviusromulus]

Are there wandering men?
Or do they only exist
in arrivals and departures
like the summer storms,
forever inking the serifs
of foreign lives?

Once, I saw one paddling
through a shoeless crowd.
I dared closer, and with
eyes like ripe grapes,
he considered me.

Those eyes - like two great
slate thunderclouds poured
into marbles - above so many
unwashed feet, had paused
to fall on to mine.

A crack of wordless thought went out -
he squeezed his eyes
and fell into the crowd.
Again alone, I felt
a puddle, fresh rain
between my toes.