Passing Ships
by Zvi A. Sesling



It really happened this way:
I was hurrying through one
of JFK's terminals and there
he was, Woody Allen, in a
gray herringbone sports jacket
with a leather patch on each
elbow wearing a red flannel shirt
jeans, sneakers and a pair of
rectangular glasses looking right at me

There I was, not ten feet away
in my herringbone sports jacket
with a leather patch on each
elbow wearing a red flannel shirt
jeans, sneakers and my rectangular
glasses as I stared in disbelief and
he looking at me probably already
thinking of a movie and me already
twenty feet past him knowing I would
not be in that movie





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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