We, Two Strangers Poem by Joseph D E Phillips

passed by in aisle eight at the grocery store.
Your eyes met mine and your hand, reaching
for a box of cereal, hesitated as you returned

the smile, your face lighting up like fireworks
and then we both turned away. The exchange
lasted only a second, though, in that second,

a scenario played out in my head in which
I was very brave and asked all the things
I wanted to ask:

what is your name do you live around here what
is your favorite color mine is blue your smile
seemed loving, yearning, do you need a friend I
am here for you hey we are having a cookout
tomorrow would you like to join us we could
talk over margaritas and laugh away our troubles
if you need support or just someone to talk to
I am here for you here is my number

but I never said those things. If I had you might
have thought I was a nut-job.
I don't understand why you would think such a thing.

All of us in this lonely world have a deep
desire to connect with those around us, yet we
don't act on it for fear that we will all look

like nut-jobs. Maybe you wouldn't have thought
me to be a nut-job after all. Maybe you wanted to
ask me those same questions and invite me,

a complete stranger, to your cookout. If you
ever read this poem and you happen to see me
in the grocery aisles again,

tell me how you are doing
what are your troubles what drives your
heart to beat your feet to step out of bed when

the sun peeks like a shy child through your window.