Friday

Friday. You both wore the same shade
of color: royal blue, a language
understood by a few, that exclusive
party of him and you.
There, that unspoken agreement
hidden in plain view, was clear
to me. Just me. Nobody else.
You did everything in stealth.

A paranoid would have gone crazy
not knowing the back story,
subterfuged history,
anecdotes passed in whispers,
why it became clear he held
an umbrella over your head
in a morning that had a light rain
while I stood from a distance
in a weathered raincoat
and my skin turned slightly green.