A quilting androgynous man was feverishly staring
at the blue plastic chair next to him
while I was walking by the parking lot that morning
bag and phone in hand
Not noticing the arbitrary blue seat
Too preoccupied because I had
burnt my silky pink tongue with the acidic excuse for a coffee
they sell at that deli
Drowning the acrid black liquid in little containers of milk that was suspiciously warm
and tiny packets of sugar I shake for no reason. Three.
It still tasted blisteringly hot and bitter, and I kept walking
Wondering about the quiet man I had a moment ago neglected to see
Quilting his quilt, waiting for something.
Someone, perhaps. I wondered yet again
as I retraced my steps, suddenly and inexplicably curious about the man
I walked past the parking lot. I threw out the dregs of my stupid coffee
He wasn’t there.
But I saw the arbitrary blue seat
It wasn’t so arbitrary anymore.
There were now two blue seats alone
by the sidewalk
Sitting quietly together
But no man anymore.
I walked cautiously towards the left one and inexplicably
I cried. I cried until the sun went down.
Shanna Roberts Salée is 24 years old and at a loss for describing herself. She graduated from the Communication Studies program at Concordia University in 2009 and spent a large portion of the following years travelling all over. She enjoys off-colour jokes, Douglas Coupland and all things Bob Dylan. Her eternal struggle between travelling and pursuing a career in the movie industry has not been put to rest. In the meantime, she is trying to get her first novel published, The Juilliards, the tale of a morally questionable suburban family. She currently lives in Montreal and has no pets.