That Pathetic Old Guy

I'll go to Cleary's soon, order something cheap,
And spend an hour or so watching Jennifer,
The hostess, stride past me to seat the other
Aging wrecks, and younger couples, families,
Who'll, no doubt, spend more than I will.  They'll
Come for dinner.  I will not.  I'll only go
To fantasize, and feel my foolish hopes diminish
With each pass she makes.  I'll try to catch her eye.
I never do.  She concentrates on leading people
To their tables.  Once they're seated, as I'll be,
They are of no concern to her.  The servers
Will bring them their food.  Mine will keep
On asking if I'd like another appetizer or
A refill of my drink until it's clear that I am
Through, and then she'll bring my check
To me.  I'll have to pay, to free the table,
And go home, aware that, though I'll dream
Of Jennifer, she won't once think of me.

Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 29 times
Written on 2022-05-06 at 00:08

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