Eating lunch alone.
All tables are numbered
and each meal standardised.
I used to have someone
to distract me from the subtitled news
and the taste of microwaved mashed potato.
I fear I am growing old and mute.
The dole comes in but all funds are withdrew
before the chance to purchase a smile
or a new pair of shoes.
I have been walking in circles and perimeters
for too long now
but to sit and sit alone
is more painful than blisters and a bruised sole.
I miss the company
of clinking glass and snorts of laughter
between tasteless bites.

I chose coffee over beer today.
At least that is something.

But sobriety only expands the view
and makes these empty spaces
even harder to fill.