Going Out

We met over watermelons

and found ourselves together

all the time.

I saw signs all over,

flutes and trombones

from I, Claudius,

your instrument

with mine.

The weeks went by,

homework came and want,

togas and no togas;

soon it was

the last day.

They left us alone:

I with my cereal

and words, you always

with your watermelon.

I never found the words

until later, when you

and the watermelons were gone.

We spoke many times,

but not with signs, and

never with watermelon

or cereal.

Perhaps that was how

it ended, too.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A memory from years ago... hopefully it makes sense even without a fleshed-out version of the passing details.

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