Eye contact

At the end
we exchanged gifts
tokens
of a deeper commerce
the kind
once entered
never ends

in another life
I could have called her sister
in still another
friend

but as it was
we had reached
beyond make believe
and
in legal terms
we had already had
full disclosure

not that I had hid anything
or that she had stolen any secrets
from somewhere
I had forgotten

but ours was the reckoning
of eye contact
I not knowing
where to focus
she not wearing mascara
or hiding her eyes
behind her bangs

I wondered if she had had some stress
because
when she straightened the curl
out of her hair
an S-shaped patch
and a few strands
of white
spoiled the contrast
of black hair
against white skin

it never showed
that it was hard
for her
to hear
of things she couldn't change
or to offer comforts
that couldn't heal

but chicken soup
is chicken soup
as any Jewish mother will tell you
it couldn't help
but it couldn't hurt

and when I thanked her
at last
I stumbled
over the words
not because
they were false
or insincere
but because they weren't equal
to the task
how do you thank someone
for changing your life
or doing it
without even trying

so I with my worry stone
and she with the words I traced
on typewriter bond
we each had
to settle
for enough
when more wouldn't have answered
what I needed
or left her with anything
for herself
or the next person
she would heal
with a touch
or a stray look
into a harried soul
carrying
off surfeits
of hope
and other stolen gold.