a moment in waiting tables

you told me you where done.
standing behind

our wall,

shoulders bow bent and
stranded,

holding the weight with surprising
enthusiasm.

"I'm done with now, I could die," you said.
your words, moral and

justified, mumbled between


turning tables like tricks with your
blouse cracked.

your straight teeth teasing, allowing them
to see how lies can

blow luxuries into glass-to gain
light in silence.

and, we make the salted butter in house.

And I knew it was true. because
your eyes where gone,

unfocused

telling me nothing. so I knew it was true.
why not I thought silently,

you've seen
you've tasted

been tasted, with boring tongues;

and its tiring believing
that only sober eyes

see the truth.

I offered you the night,
the skin

required to sleep, but your answer was no.
so there's nothing I can do for you.