Your eyes gaze calmly, staring straight ahead
at the menu you hold between your hands,
speaking only about the kind of spread
you’ll share to keep your bread from getting bland.
Cough once, speak twice, drink water with some ice,
you have nothing interesting left to say.
Don’t even bother asking for advice,
except maybe what card you’ll use to pay.
Ignore the grace that thirty years will bring,
the happiness was never bound to stay.
It’s gone like the shine of your wedding ring,
and never was it any good to pray.

And as you leave you think but are not sure
You heard "What a cute old couple they were!”