[this looks better on my site]

A man and a woman
finish sentences
and laugh.

A man and a woman
at a table in a café
in the city.

The man and the woman
are free      like many
they’re happy.

It’s around 2.30. They’re
having a time, though
he is late.

I’m sorry, he says. But she
presses a finger
to his lips.

Says, don’t spoil
this perfect happy
moment.

He opens his mouth and
bites her finger
suggestively.

She pulls away laughing,
primps her hair. They’re
so happy.

She imagines another
moment          like this
but years on.

How that young elm
will shade the square,
the people there.

This building, this café still
though the paint will yellow,
the napkins fray.

But she can’t see him
in this happy moment – only
an empty  chair.

Another wine, an espresso?
he asks. She shakes
her head

looks away. If she had to see
him now in this moment of
happiness

her composure would crack
and she’d bawl.
Hey, he says.

It’s around 2.30, too late
to go back to work, too
soon to part.

So they finish sentences,
this man and this woman,
and laugh.

And each sentence is both
an acquiescence
and a dismissal.

---

Ten poems in ten weeks. This is week three.