Cafe in the rain

Her back squashed against the glass,
She waits in the spitting rain
For something, someone,
Some time that is not now,
When it was, or is, or will be, perfect.
Her wrist droops,
Weary after impatient hoisting to squint at digits,
To keep a check on time.
Hoping it is wrong.
Hoping she is wrong.

She sits on the pooling, hard cement
In her sodden gear,
Her soaked body.
Her saturated hope.

Dregs of life stir in the zombie face
At the approach of a sauntering shadow.
She bounces up, the cat on hot bricks.
Sugar sweetness engulfs the lovers' embrace,
Before bitter quarrels absorb them,
And swirling arms, gesturing frantically, furiously,
Make shapes in the dim light.

She slumps back, watching the retreating swagger
Of a man she once knew.
Her eyes combine with the rain on her face,
Dripping down over the bright red hand-print.

I pay the bill,
And for the first time,
I am glad to be alone.

    Source: geocities.com/southbeach/jetty/8868/writing

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