What would I do
Without patience on the pc,
Without the repeat button on the playlist,
Without dirty plates, clean wet clothes,
Without pimples around my mouth, underneath my earlobes,
Without the paper-thin walls separating me from my neighbours.
I thank God
That “lonely” is such a pathetic word.
I wouldn’t know what to do if not.
I never see him leave; only
His empty glass, vacated stool,
Foam gracing the bottom of one,
The other circled by cigarette ends,
Redraw the exclamation marks of his
Absence. Silently
Whisked away, ends and foam, foam in glass,
By her.
I never see her come; only
Her apron, black, alerted look,
Slim waist being graced by one,
The other circling over the clients,
Remove the parenthesis of her
Absence. Silently
Dancing along, waist and look, look is locked
By me.
Absentmindedly I pay, leave, come back,
Always.
