Just beside the cake display,

I watched her slowly starving.

While He, that she had come to see,

recoiled, pouting languid from

her clear pale craving for his eye.

While she toyed gazing at some magazine

not written in her tongue,

but glancing, glancing, glancing dumb;

as he, caressing his magnetic Blackberry

long fingered, dropped no crumb.

So I, from kindess, (older, maybe bolder

in the frame of public shame)

while my long fingered friend

(the He that I had come to see)

was doing much the same,

proffered her some petit-fours of chat,

about our names, where we had met.

She whispered blankly,

jittered, frowned;

her natural grace near drowned within

that passive pool where her heart floundered.


and fiddling at her bag strap

with delicate intensity

she snapped; her voice, a tiny stone

I think I’ll go, I have a book at home


his answer rippled back

ok, oh ya, do that, ya, a book.

dismissed the pretty minnow quick

from off the hook.

I tell you, I could barely look.

Then, after her depart, in the wake,

the He that I had come to see

(as if reminded to renew his bait)

lowered his screen

and offered me some small display,

a narrow slice of

technical attention to my plate.

I stayed a while to sip upon

that bitter mocha cinnamon

but didn’t have much appetite to

nibble at the cake.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s