First Appeared iN outrageous Fortune

Sunglasses and cigarette smoke
Form your first impression;
Then the calloused hand shaking yours, so used to clutching
The rosary tucked beneath his fraying shirt collar.
He smiles and it echoes across the corners of your mouth
Almost against your will.

When the day starts again, his cig-stained hands stay
In his pockets.
And when he asks for your name,
His smile reverberates—
Fainter this time.
He asks you what’s wrong.

When the day starts again, he catches you staring.
He’s bleeding from his knuckles,
A bruise seeping under his sunglasses
Like water beneath church floorboards.
He throws your concern back at you
So hard you bite your tongue—

When the day starts again, he’s made of cigarette ash
And incense-steeped cloth;
You guess he’s been to a funeral.
You ask “whose?” with a pit in your stomach and he laughs,
So hard his sunglasses slide down his nose.
“Sorry have we met?”

You shake your head
Rosary beads ricocheting in your skull.
He holds out his hand and you exchange names,
Pressing them into scarred skin.
He holds yours like it weighs nothing at all
While his sears gaping holes in your palm.

He drops your hand
Like another cigarette against pocked concrete;
His smile falls mute beside it.