I saw you and knew you,
you with your checked red and black
flannel and black-rimmed glasses,
the gold mass of your hair tied back.
No thunder, no lightning, but: I knew you.

You sat with an older woman,
maybe your mom, a bronzed Freya
who did not smile as you put
a tray, a pizza, a soda, in front of her,
and who did not seem to speak much.

You seemed affable at first, then sad.
I wondered if you have a brother,
adopted, and if you were talking about him,
or perhaps your asshole dad
with his expectations you can’t meet.

I wondered if you were worried
and hiding it: family drama,
global warming and Ragnarok:
Has the ouroboros loosed his tail yet?
Is fate so inextricable?

Or perhaps you’re only a man,
never mind the observations and imaginations
of someone, sitting here, just watching.
Maybe the gods left with the titans,
and it’s just us here now,

doing our best

with what we have.