Sun glasses, scarf like feather boa
thrown back with bravado
high boots tooled in soft leather
voice velvety and slow

Between your fingers, a glass of wine
a cube of cheese on a tiny stick
“Oh really,” you say, “that is quite fine,”
with a toss of hair, glossy, thick

as when you say, “We must get together,”
the declining tone says, “sometime,” “never”
and when you say, “Oh really?”
do I hear a trace of, “You’re losing me”?

The art on the walls is unremarkable
so you let the conversation flow
with yet again, “It must be wonderful,”
until again, “I really must go.”

All very casual, all quite right:
from sophisticated heights sublime
you step out into veils of night
forgetfulness in time

Brian Campbell’s most recent collection is Passenger Flight (Signature Editions, 2009). His work has been published in numerous reviews, including CV2, The New Quarterly, and the Saranac Review. His work also appears in issues 6 and 7 of carte blanche. In 2006 he was shortlisted for the 2006 CBC Literary Award for Poetry. Campbell lives in Montreal. www.briancampbell.ca