on my lunchbreak
i sit in a cold bar
with oak finish
polished to a gull gloom
a young mother
and her younger children
sit in front of
my small booth meant for two
and she hushes
the small children as they
turn and point at
the young man and his smoke
three old veterans
one of darker pigment
smile with hanging
bottom jaw bones often
found on old gents
showing their tired pink tongues
distant couples
and suit wearing insurance
salesman make up
the rest of the diners
i think inside
i know why i'd come here
to a stagnant
room with scuffed up floorboards
topped by sagging
brick walls with oak trimming
i am pampered
and trained to judge on sight
it's a relief
to sit in a room who's
very theme is
cooly played out depression
it's a relief
to sit in a room who
never has housed
those sly second glances
followed by those
sneering calculations
the people here
have a moment's freedom
whether found by
fortunate coincidence
or a sly mind