They say it’s sad to eat alone
Pathetic to sit in a restaurant,
But the woman dining in solitude
Has a sophisticated dignity
From the onion soup to the apple tart.
She occupies a corner among the din of conversation
And maintain as gently firm as a mother
A withdrawn, pensive projection.
Reading and gently shutting her eyes at times
Accompanied by a briefcase of accomplishments
Seems to suit her mood just fine.
And this proud self-assuredness is becoming
To her stature and her face, tired but calmly alive
Softly lit by the candlelight beside her water glass
Hold the salt, watch my heart; throw down the pepper, live a little she proclaims
She told me stories as she sipped her cafe au lait
About the husband who would insist on sharing her food
But first would have to blow on it for her
If he were here
And the daughter who is renting out her apartment in San Francisco’s nicer district
During her time working for Doctors Without Borders
And watching her live a quality movie
Makes me feel so much better about not having anyone to care for me
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