Near Columbia, on Broadway,
Someone tapped me on my arm,
And as I turned in alarm,
There was a lady, tall, serene,
With a small dog on a short lead,
Tugging, anxious to proceed.
“Hello.” she said, “My name’s Irene.
What’s yours?”
And as I told her, she seemed perplexed,
“This was the name of my ex.
I am on my second mile,”
She continued with a smile.
“If to take her out I fail,
She gets upset and chews her tail.”
“Nice to have met you,”
She said,
“Sorry if I have upset you.”
I do not have a single clue,
If what she said was false or true,
She clearly needed a distraction,
And some human interaction.
But this entire bizarre scene,
And the lady named Irene,
Left me with a sense of pity
For the lonely in the city,
Who seem to not have another choice,
But to accost old men, to hear their voice...