Forks, knives, and spoons,

Two glasses of tea with a touch of lemon—

Just the way you like it—

A bowl of sugar packets,

Salt and pepper shakers

And, of course, a romantic candle

Flickering upon your face.

~

Sitting across the table,

You stare somewhere in the distance.

What is it you have to say?

You think you can just sit there

And ignore me?

You think that I would just go away?

Why don't you at least tell me to leave?

But you wouldn't want to cause a scene.

~

Our eyes meet

A brief second of fear and anticipation.

We both know that the dinner

Has come to a close too soon.

Casual talk leading to nowhere,

A nod and a gesture tell me

It is good that we came in separate cars.

~

Eighteen-year-old waitress

Cautiously leaves the check on the table.

(Even she feels the tension

Behind our forced civility.)

~

"Thank you," you utter

As you get up and walk away,

Leaving half of the bill in a small lump

Across from me.

~

"No trouble, no trouble at all"

I reply,

But you are far too gone

To hear me.

I see you through the window

As you drive away,

Seeing you for the last time.