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