Will there be singles (there)
the fellow asks pointedly
gnawing at a fingernail
(picturing a free lunch too)

he has seen my invite
to the local library’s
Thanksgiving Brunch
together with the bookmarks

Will there be singles (there)
I throw up my hands retreating
in mock awfulness deliberating
whether I need to tell him
of the 16 days campaign
against woman and child abuse

though he might speculate
how his predatory manner
(as I see it in my mind’s eye)
could at all be interconnected
in the bigger scheme of things

I once more contemplate too
the local natives’ reactions to
news of the exotically-surnamed
neighbours-to-be here
in the sheltered little village
(apartheid did its balkanization)

Will there be singles (there)
to prey upon
like a meal

to capture
like a trophy

We catch up again
as I leave the building
and he wants to dialogue

Time I reply thinking of
that hippy song ticking
away the moments
that make up a dull day