“It will change when you’re rich and old,”

I’ve heard him saying.

She responded immediately:

“I’ll never be rich,”

then she hesitated for a short but somehow powerful moment.

This moment jumped out of the conversation

and exploded above the summer street like a glass grenade.

Was I the only one to notice it?

After its shinny flying splinters melted into the air,

she added, “nor will I be old.”

I turned around to see who’s taking.

She was maybe 19, slender, vibrant and pretty.

Tight jeans, light blouse, fast walk.

He was a year or two older, taller, bland.

They stopped, kissed passionately

and resumed their stride.

What was she really telling him?

Was it: “With you I have no chance to strike it rich”?

Or perhaps: “I’ll never get to the old age with you.”

Or maybe “We’re doomed, but together.”

Was it a commitment from a woman in love,

or a way of saying - “goodbye looser.”

Or maybe she was saying:

“Careful, these are the best moments of our lives?”

Neither of these possibilities I would like for her to be true.

The way she looked, she deserved better.

But I wasn’t sure what to wish for her

Because I didn’t know what was

inside the explosion.

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