The words poured out of him in a string.
“To be honest, I had prepared for something
Else. To be honest, I had prepared for else
And nothing but else. To be honest, I had
Not prepared. And having not prepared
I could not possibly be prepared for this,
Only for some coincidental miracle of else
That, although unanticipated in any way,
Would have somehow matched what I was
Prepared to say.” And then he paused,
For breath, I thought, but no, he hadn’t
Paused. He had finished. He was done.
He sat, mugging a gloomy expression
But with smiling eyes, his hands in his lap,
Looking out at the sunset past the window.
You’re a piece of work, I thought, but I kept
My thoughts to myself because I thought
I might be unprepared for his response.
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