Café Tables

Driving down Newbury Street, I’m terrified
Of the bored moment.
You know the one.
A man and a woman sit
As a couple at a small table,
Drinking, eating, but not conversing.
Their eyes are crushed snails.
Their facial expressions, day old pancakes.
I’ve been that man, and the fear
Of being him again
Makes me
Look away.

Raud Kennedy

If you've any comments on this poem, Raud Kennedy would be pleased to hear from you.