Alan Brownjohn

Bar Mirror

He had not recognised me or I him.
The place was crammed and rackety, and our eyes
Took each other in, and we didn’t realise…
We stared, and we ruled each other out until
After several glassy seconds I found the will
And the nerve to speak. Well — it must be! — He knows my name.

In the warmth that dropped on me after the ice-cold air,
I’d been looking for someone I knew, to launch a greeting
Eagerly after long decades of never meeting.

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