It’s another Poetry Monday. Here is an offering from my favorite poet, as he vagabonded his way across Europe.
it was strange at first,
eating alone in restaurants.
I was in Portugal, so I could afford it-
the food lured me past the discomfort
of “Um, se faz favor,”
and following the waiter to a table set for two,
sitting as he whisked away the spare plate.
a mild paranoia,
what are they thinking about me?
almost always, I was alone in being alone;
couples, families enjoyed company
while I ate in solitude, focused on my food.
a few meals passed
with no one stopping at my table to jeer.
I relaxed, looked up and around.
I watched the diners, tried to read their stories.
I noticed that no one noticed me.
no one to entertain,
no listening to another’s problems,
just me and my thoughts and a free true-life movie
and some damn good Portuguese food.