Friday night dinner and a movie
High 20′ ceiling, flat black like the pipes and ducts.
Chairs willowy, reassuring. The evenings smooth,
differently intriguing, when a robot-faced guy
declares, then repeats hes not, repeat, the one to blame.
Glass of red wine, please. Or two. Obnoxious. Maybe he
reads the same self-help page daily to her, like prayers.
Pass the pepper, please. Lets imagine far-off places:
Leeds, Lima, Honolulu. In this amply designed
room, so many cute little nooks, howd we get stuck here?
How come he wont eat his little pizza and shut up?
It is hard to refocus. Still, we do. We unwind
hometown gossip and workplace dramas, patching wounds, till
now at last (ourselves like them?) we ignore the neighbors.
Villages dwindle as you climb to altitude.
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FRiGG: A Magazine of Fiction and Poetry | Issue 39 | Winter 2013