An empty cigarette case,
A cold coffee cup,
A two-dollar tip.
I pick up the tab
’Cause you’re not here
To be the gentleman.
The vent next to our booth
Was no match for the wind
That enters as you exit.
Pressing my face to the window
My nose print watches you
Walk away too
Swiveling stools at the counter
Couldn’t drown out the scuff of your shoes
Walking on the checkered floor,
And away from me.
Order was up but you kept on walking.
I didn’t want your money
Or your coffee.
I don’t want your cigarettes.
The bell twinkles
But what I hear is the diner door
Slamming shut in my face.