you say “have a good lunch”
I say “thank you” with my plates full of food-
your hand, however
empty,
waving to me as you round the corner to wash a dirty dish or two and restack the supply.
you sprinkle “what’s going on with you”
I question “how many more hours you have today?”
You stroll
And I pace
you mean to say “that food looks good,”
I mean to say “i wish you could eat with me”
You wave and your eyes linger but we both know its an embrace
you mean “i missed you”
I mean to say “where can i meet you after your shift”
you hustle and I rest,
sipping my ginger ale by the fountain,
my Vision becomes hazy:
bodies running past and through, by me and away from me, with their plates of food, the
workers in their white and blue,
All become a blur of vertical lines,
daydreaming;
in Mary Fisher of the day a shift manager or a table of friends doesn’t need our return.
BY ANONYMOUS
