The table's set for five
Precisely 6 o'clock every day
Daddy tells jokes about chickens crossing roads
Mommy puts on the tell tale "two more bites or no dessert" face
Sissy tosses burnt scraps to the chubby family dog
The baby giggles and slaps his hands on the table
I sing a happy tune to the beat of crunching lettuce and slurping soup

The table's set for four
9 tonight, the same as the past few months
Prayers of a better place before we pick up our silverware
Dad puts on a brave face and tries to be witty, only to get fake chuckles from the crowd
Mom sits quietly, staring blankly at the bib laying vacant on the table
My sister's whines about the microwavable meal go ignored
I whistle along to the cacophony of forks against plates and chairs sliding on hardwood

The table's set for three
7:37 pm and the delivery boy is leaving
Funny how mom once shut that same exact door
My father tightens his lips and pulls the newspaper closer to his bloodshot eyes
My sister glances at her phone, secretly hoping for an excuse to pick up a call and leave this wooden wasteland
I hum along to the echo of a distant television and the crinkling of black and white

The table's set for two
10:07 pm, more of a midnight snack then anything
The only conversation is small, talk of how my sister is doing at college and the weather
The man at the table sits for a minute to eat a piece of pizza and  once again disappears to a desolate room
The only sounds I make are the squeaking of rags against ceramic and the clinking of glasses going back in the cabinet

The table's set for one
No one is here to keep track of the hours anymore
A single bite in a slouching peanut butter and jelly on wheat
A lone sip from a dented can of Coke
An empty meal, an empty girl, an empty table