The Lonesome

Sunday evening only a few cafes are open catering
to the lonely; the old lady, sat at a table near mine,
ordered the dish of the day and red wine, quarter
past nine, she always comes at that time it coincides
with the arrival of a black man who wears ridicules
earrings, a man who is showing a defiant, gay face
to the world, yet vulnerable, you know, if he could,
he would take up your burden. There are no happy
endings to stories told we end up alone and nothing
matters much. Your questions will not be answered,
she knows that and when the café is empty pays him
a beer and drink another glass of wine.