there is no one watchingthe old man pours about a cup of catsup into his soup
the bowl is already overflowing with biscuits
it will be his only meal of the day
he eats it slowly
stopping to top it with catsup and crackers
he is hunched over the bowl
black moons tip his fingers
his hands surround the bowl
the coffee shop is barren
nothing on the walls
the yellow paint cracking
the fabric ripped on the benches
cigarette burns on the tables
and the slow plate shuffle
of the waitresses
but there is no one watching
the afternoon fades to darkness
like yesterday
and tomorrow
Copyright© michael dennis/Pulp Press Book Publishers