Zion

I know you wouldn’t believe me but that
I found out about your bar was pure chance.
I was going for a therapy that
summer to Topoľčany hospital.
And as  I was walking from there on one
rainy day, partially hidden under
a sunflower umbrella (not too fun
a design), I spotted at the crossroads
in front of me a car like yours. Though I
wasn’t sure it was indeed yours, I did
see how the driver, visibly a guy,
leaning slightly forward, did a double
take looking my way and it wasn’t to
just see if the road was clear of traffic,
but to see too (I would have betted) who
I was. And, I swear, he must have gotten
a mini heart attack recognising
the pedestrian walking in that rain
to be me before finally hitting
the speed pedal and going on his way.
Then a couple weeks later, on one day
sunny, I resolved the mystery of
the driver’s identity. I was way
farther already on my journey from
the hospital to Tesco, even past
the fated crossroads, when the exact same
car — a grey Mazda — again by me passed,
parked at a nearby bar, and out of it
stepped you, putting so much effort into
pretending that you didn’t see me and
obviously eagerly trying to
get inside the bar as quickly as it
was possible, while I had momently
forgotten myself and raised my hand in
excited greeting automatically
before I walked by some big trash cans that
hid my gesture from your sight. I bet you
feared I would follow you inside the bar.
And it made me giggle, even want to
laugh, how paradoxical life is — that
I hadn’t come across you anywhere
in our village when I’d been hoping
and trying for it on my skate rides there,
but then I encounter you by mere chance,
accidentally, here in town, right at
your latest work place, although I wasn’t
expecting it. And later I learnt that
you’re even the co-owner of this place.