Unexpected Visitors

In reading Billy Collins, I've been struck by the way poets can take ordinary phrases and make stories of them. So, I decided to give it a go.

Opportunity came by yesterday,

or so says the note

he stuck between the door

and its frame.

“I’m sorry to have missed you,”

he said to conclude,

“Perhaps I’ll come this way again,

or perhaps not, my schedule

can be so hard to predict.”

It was not signed,

but I knew the script at a glance,

having missed him

once or twice before.

To tell the truth,

the party was not enjoyable in the least;

I drank too much

laughed too loudly

arrived to late,

went home early.

I suppose we may have passed

each other on the street.

I cannot recall seeing anyone familiar,

though a man did stop

to stare a moment at my face

as I waited for my bus.

“Can I help you?”

I asked, unnerved.

“No, sorry, it’s a bit too late."

he replied with a smile

and disappeared with a shimmer

“Enjoy your night.”

I caught my bus,

took the stairs,

found the note,

lurched inside,

broke seven ice cubes

into a plastic bag,

and, cradling my head,

began to read

before falling asleep

still fully dressed,

sitting upright

in my favorite chair.