Thursday, April 7, 2011

We pass the day in the cafe.
The beautiful girl keeps the words coming.
She keeps the kisses coming,
She entertains her man.

She will look around in times of boredom
And notice this boy and that
And pass her gaze on to me,
Who will pass it to another.

We pass the days in just such games
Of give and take but never keep.
Even the old man in the corner takes part.
He takes my gaze out the window to the street

In seeming boredom, but really
In unceasing self loathing.
He will take his leave of us,
Withdraw himself from the place

Of the retired and unemployed,
And taking his loathing to the street,
He will close his eyes and remember
The sweet embrace of his dead wife.

It's what keeps him going.
But tomorrow he'll return
To the place where couples go
To be seen to snicker and smile

At the secrets they share,
The secrets they wish to never give away,
Or else come back to the cafe
In old age and realize the pain
Of passing days alone.