Malaga Meet

In the station: not reading the arrivals board,
my purview segued from the segway-ed
local policeman to a friendly face.
My good luck: it was Chuck:
wow! Exactly as his pen picture
painted him, right down to the haversack.

Hands shaken, he was taken -
we didn't go far- to a workman's cafe-bar.
Chuck had tea, beer for me
he met my wife, precis-ed his life.

At the table, just watching the people go
about their daily business - if not gaily -
then with gusto for a less than rodentine race.
We saw a suit, a real hoot
on a fortyish guy who wore a drape
with style, no care at all for opinion.

Tongue-tied up, being sized up?
I listened hard to life's postcards
from a man in the van
- far from the tail- of the hippy trail.

Drinks all finished, we said our goodbyes too:
keep in touch! It hadn't been much
but more than enough to know connection
in spite of that, and under that
Andalusian sun we found a friend
from cyberspace can have a human face.