A Quiet Walk

Its not comfortable,
This quiet walk with a stranger.
My words seem forced,
Subject to critical review.

Quiet stretches awkwardly and I’m averse
To making any additional effort.
We just don’t seem to fit,
This stranger and I.

I know this man.
His features are easily recalled.
Yet he remains a stranger
Never entirely visible.

We seem to be wary of each other,
Circling, looking for an opening,
Trying to avoid an impulsive lead
That might prove humiliating.

Two characters from a play by Kafka,
Each finding the script that was promised,
Far from fulfilled,
Both stumbling with a banal dialogue.

Hope is constantly suggested,
A lightening of the struggle,
Acceptance of a heart-felt hug,
Only to see the others eyes, flameless, cool.

Nothing confrontational,
No accusations flung in defense.
Too long have the characters relied on insulation.
No redemption to be found in the last act.