Expedition

We stare at each other across the table for ten long minutes,
eyes swerving up and down each other’s faces,
picking at rows of forehead creases,
digging up signs of
smiles around the mouth,
frowns around the eyes,
and I wonder what I’m looking for
and whether I’d notice if I found it.

Coffee arrives and words follow,
no better than the silent scrutiny of those long minutes,
still wrapping themselves around foreign tongues
and prying up the corners of think-out-loud talk.
I do my best that day,
I dig through you for hours,
but when it comes to flags, I am still colour-blind,
can’t tell red from white.
Later that night,

I go down without a fight.