Watching a lot of dead people
moving around, finding a table.
The heavy glass separates
the booth and the tables
from inside and sidewalk.
As the food carried by life
and served with a smile.
She hasn’t learned to give
up her breaths of hope quite yet.
Watching and waiting and eating.
Watching the gray faces of tired eyes,
I see my reflection in the glass,
praying I will never get there.
Copyrighted: 2019 CMM