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You sit across the table
Not looking at my hand
Which rests upon formica
Revealing upturned palm

Sweated glass of water
Drip-stained coffee cups
Congealed fat drops on a plate
Witness us discuss our love

Your eye catches the server
A check in tray arrives
You reach into your pocket
Your lips form in a smile

You answer your own question
Deciding how I am
We rise and leave the restaurant
You never touch my hand.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2015 - 2017 by Talia Russell
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical means without written permission of the author.

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