we sit
at a small round metal table
in a coffeehouse

outside
we watch the same old man
walk by the window
over and over

he has a short white beard
and looks like he smokes a pipe
although he doesn't have one

perhaps, we ponder
he is searching for
a unified field theory
his entire career as a physicist
has led him here
to this place
at this time
to puzzle out the final bit of the equation

he wears a baseball cap
with a symbol i don't recognize
something like
a fleur-de-lis
his jeans have
white stitching
that sections off the pants
into squares
they seem out of place on him somehow
clothing for a younger generation

he is a grizzled bank robber
planning his final heist
just one more before he can retire
to a tropical island
and leave his life of crime behind

he spits as he walks
as if marking his territory
step
step
step
step
spit
this is mine

a government agent
who learned too much
followed the wrong leads
uncovered too much truth
so they gave him
drugs
shock therepy
brain surgery
most of what he was is gone
but enough remains
that he can't stop pacing the streets
trying to remember

she looks away from him
and says to me
that she just wants to run outside
and ask him
"who ARE you?"
but we both know
she won't

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