The Width of a Table
He could not help but notice her
Despite the obvious empty
Reserved table in no mans land
Between them
Of course she also had the waiter’s
Undivided attention
Which was not surprising
Given that she stood out like a
Beautiful sore thumb
He was also most impressed with
The way she held her fish knife
And later drew upon a Gauloises
A nice touch he thought
As some acquired reflex made him
Reach inside his jacket
Before remembering that he quit
Ten years or more ago
Then on making his way back
To the parking lot
He tossed the Alfa keys high
In the air and smiled
At his own reflection in the
Window of a Dry Cleaner on
Station Road
He had caught her eye at least
And she smiled in his direction
Maybe next time or the next time
He hoped they might exchange
More than just a smile and those
Occasional glances thrown across
An empty table
That which perfectly divided them