(Sequel to 42 Days Since the Death of His Wife)
The lonely one returns,
a mere three weeks and two days later.
Hair unkempt, in need of a shave,
clothing disheveled, still wearing his ring.
I bypass the tea,
offer a beer instead.
Standing behind me as I lean on the fridge,
he asks me softly if I have anything stronger.
I retrieve the whiskey, blow off the dust,
wash two glasses, drink to his health.