Pretend It's 8 A.M.

 

A simple smile so soft and sweet

A glance betwixt two strangers,

Who sit amidst the yammer

And glamor of morning coffee drinkers.

 

The smell of jelly and sugary glaze

Sticks to skin and hair and nails

And people gnash and gnaw their pastries

Into a sort of flaky paste.

 

And innocent crumbs fall past their lips,

Unnoticed on their shirts and skirts

Until everyone else has seen them.

 

And the ring on your finger doesn’t matter

Because everyone comes here alone

But always leaves with someone.

 

He smiles at her again and raises his cup

In a silent toast to everything

That may come

And everything that will be.

 

Her cheeks flush pink and she hides

Behind the obituaries.

More people have died, but that’s life.

No one likes to deal with the strife

Of someone else’s problems and lies.

 

So he takes the seat beside her

And asks how she is. She smiles

But only until he leaves.

He wasn’t sincere. Neither was she.

There’s no need to be real today

Not before 8 a.m. anyway