Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

Voice almost as distinctive as fingerprints
an identifier and confirmer.
Her hair was still dark
improbably monotone for the years
the glasses may have been real, or fashion accessory
imagination imagined, adding fullness for the years
subtracting the spectacles.
It might be her
then voice, overheard in the lobby
eliminated all doubt.
Matching rings on marital fingers, standing together –
quietly with affection.
I remember working together I thought her a junior,
trying to be senior,
tame wanting to be an adventurer –
a medium personality counterfeiting XXS,
someone constantly straining to be something she wasn’t.

She collected the tickets, they left
outside away from the lights they crossed the street, arm in arm
two middle-aged women content, and happy.
No masquerade. No pretence.

Once when young, when
boys still thought girls silly
to be avoided or teased
and boys who like the company of girls thought sissy
or worse.
Nothing could be worse
except a few months later
when everybody still remembered and
everything had changed
when boy and boy, was far worse than girl and boy.

Then they teased us about the time we rode home double
me peddling, him on the rack – clutching me.
Razzing declined to add there was nothing
for him to hold on
or the school bus had failed to show up.

It was an awkward memory for both
for the rest of schooldays.
My pillion hitchhiker – hugger they said
died young,
before he turned 21.
The teasing had stopped by then
but on the afternoon he was lowered into the earth
I would have gladly swapped the shock and sorrow
for of lifetime of ribbing.

The dentist’s wife,
not quite as evocative as the pilots wife.
They worked together
professional and assistant,
Mr and Mrs
husband and wife.
She always greeted people then took them in
and always called me Mr –
for 10 years,
until
one occasion when I was first appointment of the day –
7:30 a.m.
making small talk about the weather
asked how it was out there.
I replied it was raining when I left home but okay now
she wondered if I had been working all night
no, I always look like this first thing in the morning.
We both laughed
and after that she used my first name, never Mr.