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sam-13Poems
Alone, dining is a form of liberation. I welcome the waiter with the picket fence smile. Gallant questions no match for the pleasantness of his own voice. My hands fold, defeated, over the complacent menu. He peers expectantly over my shoulder, but it’s your eyes reflected in my glass- Familiar feigned interest and the impatient twitch of your lips. I choke down the battered façade of chivalry. I tip you off that your favors are futile. Your confidence more mediocre than any meal I’ve tasted. I dab at the corners of my mouth, politely hiding my distaste. Service is no more generosity than options are freedom. I slide my chair back and walk out- Alone.
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
Reservations
Alone, dining is a form of liberation. I welcome the waiter with the picket fence smile. Gallant questions no match for the pleasantness of his own voice. My hands fold, defeated, over the complacent menu. He peers expectantly over my shoulder, but it’s your eyes reflected in my glass- Familiar feigned interest and the impatient twitch of your lips. I choke down the battered façade of chivalry. I tip you off that your favors are futile. Your confidence more mediocre than any meal I’ve tasted. I dab at the corners of my mouth, politely hiding my distaste. Service is no more generosity than options are freedom. I slide my chair back and walk out- Alone.
sam-13
Written by
sam-13
American
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
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