October 17, 2010 § 4 Comments

The woman with only one glove sits
Across from the gray man whose wrists look just
Too dainty
For the ring around his finger
And the rest of them
(the men)
Sit scattered,
As though they fear their turning pages may –
Accidentally –
Arouse a conversation.

Pens cross out crosswords and
Eyes scan news that is never
New but
The air smells like coffee and sounds like
And solidarity sits amidst the quiet crowds

The man in the corner doesn’t know that
from this angle
I can see the skin on the pages he is turning
And the people sitting near me don’t know that
I am not usually the type of girl to wear
Teal nailpolish –

The unbuttoned-collared-shirt-and-witty-novel makes
an irrelevant order
From the green-aproned girl with the pretty smile because he
Probably won’t drink it but they’ll
Probably get married some day.



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