Sterile light, greasy diner.
Chatter at the other table –
two encouraging each other.
No work, no desire to learn,
yet he deserves a girlfriend.
(Not his female listener,
of course.)

One almost feels sorry
when she recounts the significance
of every game of house
played in preschool.

Love eludes my friend and me.
Our table has never graced
a double date. Rather,
fried shrimp, coffee, steak.
One day, he’ll eat healthier.
I’ll be happy for him,
strangely missing this place.

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