Parallel tables down this neighbourhood street
I can see some of them from distant windows
One is vacated
One is full, people buzzing about
Hot food coming out of the kitchen onto the table
Bubbling, boiling soups, freshly tossed salads
Glasses brimming with new stories
Then, to the right, a person
Sits at their table alone,
One dim light, eating from a bowl
My guess is cereal.
Stories, stories, stories
Troubling questions
Awkward silence
He’s meeting the parents today
So, he fidgets and taps his feet
She’s telling them she got into college
He just got home from his best friend’s funeral
The other house is dark,
They always have dinner at six
But today, the lights are off
Trip? No.
They’re saying goodbye to grandma in the hospital
That couple in the duplex
I think it’s their delivery date
There’s that one house,
Everyone eats at a different time
Mom, daughter, and second daughter rotate washing dishes
but the older one just got married
it looks like they are still settling into the newfound gaps
her brother left today
a house that used to be loud and crowded
now, two empty nesters
they never eat at the table anymore
they put on the TV
with their plates
because the couch is a smaller space to fill
than these dining room tables

sky dining table.
much loaves of bread, butter heaps;
windswept the leftover.

blood drips
from your lips
to my fingers
my hands
stealing kisses
leave stains on your cheek
I see you, you swear
in the way your gaze lingers
as your tongue

We sat side by side that evening
:a pair of lost children
before the menu list of dining.

Looks like I'm the only one
who can hear your heart throb
looks like you're the only one
who isn't bothered by ugly music
in that tea shop.

From where does this nervous start?

Eight kilometers ago a greedy fate
swallowed all holidays
and postponed journey of prayer,
delaying your arrival in the reach
of my helpless desire.

Though you finally arrived
and we sat side by side
all evening, the cracking
weather at the end of the year
did not stop sending a signal
to the trembling cup of tea in
my hand.

The conversation is like a wraith,
because words already we keep
in faith.

And in the arch of your cheeks,
twilight becomes innocent
Like a single little sin
that slowly being forgiven.

At dinner for two
I chose a tasting menu.

Chatter was pleasant,
Until the sous-vide pheasant.

Conversation digressed:
My faults were expressed.

I did not forsee,
A deconstructed m
                                 e.